


A Fairy Big Problem

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Centaurs, Complete, Dimension Travel, Enemies to Lovers, Fae & Fairies, Falling In Love, High School, Lithuania looks good in velvet, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Romantic Friendship, Werewolves, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Alfred is the arrogant son of the fairy queen Kirkland, and a terror of the royal court. Exiled to mundane Earth as a lesson, he learns so much more than human sciences.Made for Rusame Secret Santa 2019, addressed to @wandschrandheld on Tumblr. Merry Christmas.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), Canada/Netherlands (Hetalia), Germany/Luxembourg (Hetalia)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

The Kirkland family was an ancient one of truth, myth, and accomplishments. The royal bloodline was one of fae and warlocks as far back as the dragon wars. Arthur Kirkland, the tenth Arthur thus far, was proud of his heritage. He was proud of his emerald green eyes, his unusual looks, and his dagger sharp wit.

Most of all, he was proud of his wings. Every fae blooded Kirkland was different. Some had butterfly wings, or bat wings, while others had bird variants. It was the signature of the family. The other constant was eye colour. Eyes always equalled the quality of magic. The more interesting the colour and iris patterning, the more likely great destiny was coming.

Arthur had beautiful dragonfly wings, glimmering like stained glass. He was the perfect fae royal, prim and proper in all ways. Then... There was Alfred. His son was plenty of things, but prim and proper was not one of them.

Prince Alfred had so much promise in the beginning. As a young child, he easily grasped all the ancient languages. His magic, whenever it came in, would be potent. With eyes like sapphires, there was no doubt. This believe was beginning to wane.

Prince Alfred was no doubt beautiful, yet useless. He was now eighteen, and never once cast an entire spell. His wings were sad feathery tufts, mere stumps that barely moved. He long lost interest in his royal studies. He was wild and untamed these days, angry and wand dependent.

The inevitable came to Arthur's private meditation chamber. He was a mere three inches tall in his natural form, perched in ceremonial meditation. Wings pert, he opened one brilliant green eye. It was Toris, the royal informer. As per custom he bowed his much larger human body to that of the tiny royal.

“Your grace, there is news of Prince Alfred.” The messenger informed respectfully.

Arthur sighed and slumped in his large pillow. “What is it?”

“He has been discovered... vulnerable in a local tavern. He has cause a domestic disturbance with several market stall owners.”

Arthur rubbed his wild bushy brows in exasperation. “He's drunk. I give you permission to state he is drunk.”

“Great Prince Alfred had been discovered very very drunk, my sire. As per your ordinances, I have him contained. He is awaiting your judgment in his room.” Toris bowed ever deeper, the green ostrich feather in his cap now brushing the ground.

“Please inform King Francis I will be dealing with my ungrateful offspring, and late for our autumnal brunch.” Arthur fluttered to Toris's eye level as the servant stood. “You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Toris flickered away with primitive teleporting magic a moment later.

Alone, Arthur transformed into his human sized formed. His more human son spared no respect unless he was more appropriately sized. Unfortunately, shapeshifting was not Arthur's specialty. His teeth were always just a tad crooked, his hair dry like straw, his fae beauty slightly warped from its three inch frame to a human adult frame.

Honestly, the things you did for your children. With his human like form complete, a grand green cloak was pulled on. Given the Kirkland castle had thousands of rooms in a private dimensional pocket, it was easier to teleport to his son's room. The darn thing moved around almost as much as Francis's famous walk-in closet.

Solidifying in a grungy laundry strewn room, Trollish death metal blasted through magical bird statues. Alfred's room, as per usual, was disgusting. Alfred was crunching down snacks on his bed, leaving crumbs everywhere. “Hey dad.”

“I see you are being productive.” Arthur sighed, looking around.

“Lecture time?” Alfred was not taking any of this seriously.

How many times had they done this? Twenty times? Thirty times? One hundred times? Every time it didn't make a difference. There was pregnant pause as Arthur looked at his son mournfully.

“No. Not this time dear.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Drama. Come on, you want to yell about stuff.”

“No. I yelled at you when you stole a griffon to go joy riding.”

“That was _not_ my fault. I was talked into it!”

“I yelled at you when you puked on the Admiral's wife at the crystal festival.”

The rebellious teen snorted derisively at this more recent mention. “I apologized after I sobered up.”

Arthur said nothing more, dropping a summoned pamphlet on the end of the gross bed. “There has to be consequences sometimes.” With that, he faded out via teleportation. In a drunk state, Alfred struggled to sit up and grab the glossy business flyer. His jaw dropped at the subject material.

It was an advertisement for the Royal School for Naughty Nobles. It was a special type of hell for truly unrepentant future rulers. Fixed dinner times, etiquette drills for hours, topped by total mental reform. People left that wretched place completely different than before. It was genuinely frightening Dad was resorting to this extreme measure.

Oh, he was in deep shit this time.


	2. Chapter 2

“Can you believe it Matthew? I talked to my dad _and_ your dad. They agreed on sending me away. They like, totally hate me forever!” Alfred complained endlessly as he ran through the royal meadows. He panted as he jogged after his much fast in-law brother. 

Matthew was barely winded at all as he galloped around. After all, he was a centaur. From his fair wheaten hair to his cute horse butt, he was every bit the charming prince. Everyone loved him in his pretty cavalier style coats, his horsey curtsies, and his soft words of diplomacy.

The only reason Matthew wasn't in line to be king was his birth. King Francis had born his only son out of wedlock, a most taboo sin of a human king. What he had sex with to create a centaur child was an unsolved mystery no one ever discussed. With King Francis's own lineage dishonoured because of his needy cock, his last queen essentially walked out on him. 

Alfred's own dad was flat broke after fighting off the neighbouring Welsh dragons. Desperate for cash and not the most popular, he accepted Francis's offer. Arthur could technically shapeshift, and fit the queen role. Dad needed the cash, and King Francis regained honour. Everyone won.

Alfred won more than most did. He got a pretty sweet brother out of the marriage. The guy was so nice! Getting to braid flowers into your brother's horse tail was a unique experience.

“Slow down man, I'm... I'm not as fast.” Alfred huffed, pausing to hunch over and gasp for air. He sat on a wooden bench to recover as Matthew pranced over with arm fulls of flowers.

“They don't hate you Al. They don't know what to do.” Matthew soothed, dumping the blooms on the bench. He then sat with care before Alfred, readying his tail to be flower braided. There was some big deal happening tonight, and the boys had to look good.

Alfred started brushing out the tangled tail while complained. “They need to give me more stuff. What's so hard to understand about that?”

“They won't give you free stuff forever.” Matthew's ears flickered in irritation as Alfred brushed. “Not so hard please.”

Alfred frown but stopped pulling on tangles, still pissed over things. The parents had given him a few days to mull over what disciplinary school he wanted to go to. Oh, a choice of prisons. How luxurious of them! “It's not fair! I don't want to go to Naughty's, or Saint Ogden's, or whatever! I'm not a bad guy!”

“You stole a griffin and went joy riding. Thats... not good.” This was one issue Matthew never budged on. Brown nosing goody horse shoes brother!

“Why does everyone remind me of that?” Alfred whined, starting to braid.

“That's... kind of kidnapping Al. That's not good. All the drinking and stuff doesn't help.” Matthew looked away and twiddled his thumbs as he spoke softly.

“Nag.” Alfred teased.

“Ass!” Matthew swatted him in play. They goofed off a minute, then resumed grooming. “You are in trouble though.”

Alfred sighed as he finished up with a goofy ribbon bow. “I... I know. But I don't want to be fired off to a shit hole school.”

“Do time in another dimension. I spent four months in Biyora Seven to run off my hormones. It really helped me when I turned of age. Dad would be fine with it, but you'll have to convince Queen Arthur.” Matthew chatted as he admired his swishing tail. “Oh I like the bow. The bow was a good idea.”

“You are a genius! I can totally convince Dad.”

Matthew nickered nervously, prancing in a tight little circle a moment. “Are you sure?”

Alfred hand waved away his brother's concerns. “I am a master diplomat. I will be fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Please please please please please please please please let me do time in a dimension.”

Alfred had been sawing away at his father's patience for two hours. In his natural three inch form, the technical queen was sitting on his favourite windowsill. The fed up fae was sipping tea out of a buttercup cup, watching the nearby sea.

“No.”

“Pretty please please please! I'll be so good! I'll be the best ever, come on please please pretty please!”

“No.”

They had been at this for two hours. Alfred was more desperate than even his parents estimated. “Oh pretty please please. It can be a no magic dimension even, just please don't send me to Ogden's. Please please please please please please!”

Arthur cocked a bushy brow as he looked down upon his begging son. The grown child was practically on the floor now, crying his eyes out. The question was, whether these tears were real. Alfred was a stunningly talented actor.

“Please, I don't wanna go to magic prison. Please?” Alfred was pawing pathetically at the wall below his father now, a pleading mess.

Oh curse that soft heart of Arthur's. He couldn't say no to an old fashioned shameless begging. It was how Francis won him over. Such an insatiable human, with eclectic tastes to match.

“A non-magic dimension you say.”

Alfred nodded frantically, sitting up in hope. “A _primitive_ non-magic one. Any shit hole you want.”

Arthur frowned at his son's commoner tongue, looking back to the sea. “I will consider it.”

“Yes! You won't regret this dad! Not one bit!” Alfred leaped to his feet in joy, tears all but gone.

“Leave.” Dad ordered darkly.

Alfred scrambled to leave, slamming the door after thoughtlessly. Matthew was there in the stone halls, less than impressed. “Master diplomat, you say?”

Alfred gave a thumbs up, cheeky as ever. “Master diplomat!”


	4. Chapter 4

Three days later, Alfred was on the royal lawn. A beautiful Alorian sunset was in progress, the purple sky rippling with hot pink and blue clouds. The twin suns of Aloria watched like eyes of the mother goddess, slow as they sank. It was a sight Alfred would miss dearly.

The king, queen, his brother ambassador, and key staff members were all there to see him off. Toris took off his velvet cap and bowed respectfully. “I wish you the best of luck on Eyarth, your majesty.”

Felix, the royal seer, was also present in his insane wizard robe. It was white, red, and drowning in gold accessories. He had been Alfred's magic tutor in the early years, a good friend to Prince Alfred.

“I'll totally miss you little eagle!” The man hiccuped, getting emotional already. Alfred cringed slightly at his lame nickname, but accepted a hug from his mentor. The pet name was an indirect jab at Alfred's failures for wings. They had been feathery stumps since he was seven, with no growth for over a decade.

“I'll miss you too Felix, Toris... Matthew.” He answered honestly looking over the lot. Settling on Matthew, Alfred approached his cool sibling. He could only reach the centaur's human midsection, for the race as a whole was ridiculously tall. Matthew knelt slightly to complete a proper hug.

“Be safe out there baby brother.” Matthew murmured, giving Alfred an amulet. It was subtle iron with a sigil carved along the edges. “I had this made to protect you.”

“I'm not a baby! But I'll wear it.” Alfred protested, moving on to the most emotional family member. His father in law, King Francis, was as loving as he was short sighted. Dad, meanwhile was perched on the king's crown and calm as ever.

“Mon petite bebe! You will be gone and I will be so sad!” Francis gushed, squishing Alfred like he was an orange. Dad meanwhile ruffled Alfred's golden blonde hair. “There there lad.”

With this, Alfred's personal guard Ludwig stepped forth. He was a burly man with eyes like cyan ice. Afflicted by Lycanthropy from birth, the great warrior had mastered combat and magic to fully utilize his condition. He was literally born to protect Alfred. “I had your things sent ahead, my lord.”

“Thanks Lud. Can you open the gate?” Alfred straightened out his satin and silver laced coat, preparing to face a whole new dimension. The personal guard shifted with a spark of his cyan magic, now resembling a tawny timber wolf.

With a few magic words, a stonework gate of master craftsmanship materialized. “PLANET EARTH, SOL SYSTEM, MILKY WAY, WEST QUADRANT, DIMENSION 57” was carved into the portal with curling elvish letters.

“To new beginnings, my lord.” The wolf hummed, eyes bright and alert.

Alfred swallowed, and pushed the doors open. He looked back one last time to his family. The stone family castle was a magical place he thought he would never leave. With a nervous smile, he faced an uncertain destiny and walked into the magical void.


	5. Chapter 5

Lars's day started like any other. The alarm would go off at five in the morning, beeping and blaring like reality did. Still one foot in dream land, the tall blonde would put on sweat pants as not to blind his siblings with his whiteness. His sister and brother rarely woke up this early, but it happened.

Opening all three bunny cages, fuzzy bunny friends would hop along with him as he completed his routine. Putting on a pot of coffee, he would then. brush his teeth and shower at the same time. Lars prioritized speed over everything.

Once a week he gave himself a shave right in the tub, then rinsed everything down and washed the bunnies too. Sometimes the loved bunnies were curious and hopped into the wet tub anyway. They usually didn't like the warm shower water.

Barely dried, he had just enough time to pull on something beige, orange, or navy. Dashing to the kitchen, he would turn off the coffee pot. Twenty minutes into his morning, he started breakfast. It was the only thing that woke up Claude and Leanne. Today in particular was scrambled eggs. All the while, Lars desperately scrambled to gather his university supplies in his back pack. After that, Claude and Leanne's school supplies were set up by the door.

Miffy, Jenever, and Puff faithfully hopped along for every step. Next the siblings stumbled out of bed and did their thing. While this happened, Lars gathered laundry or swept the floor. Somewhere in all this he had to eat and inhale two cups of black coffee.

After wrangling his younger siblings to brush their goddamn teeth and not dress inside out, the bunnies were put back to bed. Both siblings would be ushered to the bus stop and ensured they got on. Lars then sprinted to his own bus, and packed his morning with university courses. After lunch he had to get home.

Letting the bunnies out for food and play time was priority. Never resting for a second, Lars made dinner ahead of time, putting it in the fridge. Somewhere in this time, he would cram finishing homework while the lesson was fresh. Putting the bunnies away, Lars often stopped by the bank on the return for an afternoon course.

After his course, he left for the diner a block from home. There he would work for six hours. Driving home he picked up groceries when required. His younger siblings would be home alone for about an hour by then. He would shower fast food smell out of his skin and help Claude or Leanne with homework, before doing yet more homework of his own.

All the while, Miffy, Jenever, and Puff would hop around his feet and sometimes get ear scratches. The world was darkness without bunny love. Eating, Lars then lightly cleaned up everything, including the many bunny poops.

Burnt out and weak with fatigue, Lars often passed out while hanging out and comforting his oblivious siblings. Between weed and bunny love, Lars managed to survive this daily cycle for four years.

His father died of cancer six years ago. The abusive bastard did little in the home, but it was a loss of an income. Mom tried to pick up the financial slack, mostly keeping them afloat. Lars carried less domestic chores back then, but did work at that awful diner.

When Mom died instantly in that head on collision with a truck, everything fell to the young twenty one year old. He promised Dad he'd be the man of the family, and keep strong. No tears. No feelings. Only pure survival in the face of insane odds. The van den Berg family would never ever be split up into faceless government organizations.

Lars took it all as the legal guardian, then he took a little more... and more... and more. Until he felt like he was drowning. But he kept getting up and he kept trying. This was just his life now, and had been for the last four years.

The car ruined everything. Mom's car finally died, and the loan interest to get another one was staggering. Not that he qualified for any loan ever, in the entire city. There was nothing left to pawn that the kids wouldn't miss or comment. In insane desperation he did what he swore he would never do again.

Lars sold pot. He sold it by the bags. He grew it when he could. More often than not, he moved other local people's product. It was immensely profitable. A time of spoils and ease. Very quickly, it was not. The goddamn cops came around quick, always nosing at his door.

Cleaning up his act in a flash, the next insane plan was enacted. Knowing most of the weirdos on Craigslist for his area, Lars took a huge risk. He posted Dad's old office for rent. Post and the weirdos would come.

The strangers came in droves. Bizarre old men with train fetishes. Hardcore furries and role players. Ghost hunters down on their luck. Dozens of ex-carnies and drug users were rejected. About to give up the family home to bankruptcy, Lars was at wit's end.

Salvation came in the form of Renaissance fair costumes and green crushed velvet. Exhausted on his only day off, Lars answered the door. Leanne was at the mall with her friends, unaware the house was two months away from repossession. Claude was goofing off with a guitar in his room, trying to concoct an awful song for wooing a senior class crush.

In a stained wife beater shirt with stubbly shadow and a cup of coffee, Lars snarled through the door. “What do you want.”

“I am Toris of the house of Kirkland, royal informer. I come to request the available rental from this... List of Craig.” The brunet weirdo was seen through the peephole, squinting at his old school paper scroll.” The weirdo was wearing a lot of green velvet and... was that gold buttons on his clothes? What was the chances that was real gold buttons?

Oh hell it didn't matter. This was a bat shit insane man with too much money from the depths of Craigslist. Lars would take what he could get.

“Oh... Yes, yes of course! Pardon while I um... find the owner!” Lars replied in lower tone, a little panicky as he scrambled to put on real clothes. Maybe the other guy would fall for it, and believe Lars didn't rip his head off just now.

“Very well. I shall wait at the front of the estate.” The crazy man answered serenely.

Barrelling into Claude's room, Lars hissed at his younger brother. “Do not come out. Do not make loud noise. I am having very very important guests over and they might be insane.”

“But --” Lars slammed the door as he left, cutting off Claude's probable argument. At the door, Lars put on his only pants and blazer with no holes. Slipping on shoes, he met the crazy man outside. The crazy man was outside by a golden gilded carriage, pulled by none other than white horses. Oh Christ, this guy was _super_ crazy... but super rich.

Offering a hand to the insane green velvet man, Lars greeted them with a genuine smile. “My apologies, I was in my office. I am Mr. Van den Berg, owner of this estate.”

“We did not send a forwarding bird, it is entire my burden that cause this inconvenience. I am most interested in your room of the rental purpose.” Toris cleared the air, bowing far too deeply after an awkward hand shake.

“It is still available. Would you like a tour?” Lars offered instantly, eager to take this man's cash.

“One of the royal guards may. My prince must live in safe quarters.” With this strange reply, two... _people_ came out of the carriage.

They were the most realistic furries Lars had ever seen. A white wolf man in mostly bipedal fashion emerged. Lars could swear he saw muscle move under the pale fur. The chest was heaving with breath. No. No way! This was just a really really good costume. “Am I required, great informer?” The wolf man greeted in the most German wolf voice ever.

Another hybrid wolf man, tawny brown with burning cyan eyes, sat beside the renaissance guy. “He reeks of peasantry, sir.” The second wolf man growled, more feral.

“You've been saying that all day Ludwig. Gilbert, please inspect the property for danger.” Toris ordered sternly as he dug through his bag of scrolls.

In true dedication to the furry arts, the white wolf man entered the house on all fours. Five long awkward minutes later, he returned in loping gait. “I found no dangers sir. I spoke with his three rabbit familiars. A miss Miffy spoke boldly of his virtue. He appears to be an accomplished wizard and home owner.”

“Three familiars. Such dedication!” the presumed Ludwig hummed, impressed. How the furry was getting his suit to move along so fluently was a mystery.

 _Play along Lars. At least this isn't a sex thing they're doing._ Keeping thoughts to himself, Lars shrugged and went along nervously. “All three were so cute I couldn't choose.”

“Well that seems fair. Caring for Prince Alfred Kirkland of Aloria should be minimal. The goal here is for him to suffer domesticity, but not actual pain. The king was very specific he should learn a lesson this time. I would like to discuss details inside, if that is of no affront to you Baron Van den Berg.” Toris went on and on, extremely informative. Great informer indeed.

Lars went along with things. He held his tongue. He wanted to break out in laughter at parts, but manage neutral resting bitch face. _Money. Where the fuck was the money?_ Seeing Lars glaze over slightly, Toris smiled and changed subject. Sitting in the living room across from Lars, the green velvet guy gestured to his weird as holy hell furry servants.

“But of course. A first payment if you accept my prince as a resident. Bring forth the spoils!”

The two wolf... people... huffed as they dragged in a small wood and metal chest. It looked extraordinarily heavy. It was set beside Lars with a creaking of tired wood floor. The wolf enthusiasts then sat on the sat and whined in very German manner.

“Mein Gott, the chest is heavier every time.” The white one bitched. The tawny one yawned widely like all dogs do, extremely life like.

“I must inspect the goods of course.” Lars replied coolly, doubtful this would result in anything.

“Naturally. This chest should be enough to cover expenses... and potential damages... the prince might cause.” Toris winced at this, looking away. The tawny wolf dude ripped the lock off with his hands and opened the iron bound chest. He then gestures freely with a hand... paw... to Lars.

Gold. Jewels. Gold. Money. Jewellery. Cash. Cash. Lars barely stopped his jaw from dropping. Even if every fucking thing in the box was fake, there was thousands of dollars in fake stuff. “It is certainly generous.” Lars murmured, sinking to the floor. He knelled before the chest, running his fingers through cold glorious wealth. The gold certainly felt real, and the jewellery was exquisite. It was beyond Lars's reckoning. Bundles of modern day cash were lazily thrown on top, equal to what Lars earned last year.

“Yes. I'll take him in.” Lars answered thoughtlessly, barely able to look away.

“Excellent. Just sign here... here... and we'll be on our way. The prince will be here in five earth sunrises.” Toris cheered, unrolling another scroll.

“Days, great informer. The Eyarth people call them days.” The tawny wolf guy growled. Lars mindlessly signed the papers. He didn't care what they said. Once alone, he locked the door. Lars held the money and swooned.

“Gold... Gold, gold! Gold!” he groaned, uncaring if he seemed inappropriate. Elation, relief, and joy washed over him. He laughed wildly, grabbing more wealth and covering his lap. Tears of exhaustion, or pure joy, it was hard to tell, washed from him. “Money... money...” he sobbed, laying on the floor with clutched cash.

Claude emerged from his room, raised a finger to say something, then paused. “I'm... uh, just staying in my room.” It was a wise choice.


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred's first day of human school! The magic prince danced about excitedly at six in the morning. Lars looked more tired than usual, if that was possible. Every second of everyday since Alfred showed up was stress. First, a magic stone portal crushed Lars's new TV. With the bank off his back and a stack of jewels set aside to cover his family's education, a few luxuries had been acquired. Maybe Lars had some sick new sunglasses and leather jacket. He had a TV... until Alfred crushed it with his arrival.

After that, the toaster was torn apart to look for “fire imps that cook the bread”. It was a little rash to throw a true foreigner into the hell pit called high school. Lars already had a full plate to deal with. He didn't have time to run after an insane magical teenager while raising two regular ones. Lars had to hope Claude and Leanne would assist.

Alfred was mashed into Lars's side as he tried to fry eggs. Every nudge and gesture was watched like a hawk. “Hey. Hey... Hey. Watcha doin'?”

“Frying eggs.” Lars grumbled, sipping his dark coffee.

“What's frying eggs?”

Lars sighed. The questions never ended... ever. “Cooking eggs in hot oil.”

“But you put butter in the pan.”

“Butter has salt and oil in it.”

“Where did the salt go? Did it die?”

Lars was so ready to punch this dude out, he growled and bit his lip a moment. “It's in the pan.”

“Like right now? Or the whole time? Did you wizard the salt into the pan? Miffy keeps saying you're a food wizard and I'm inclined to agree. Like where does the food even come from? You keep showing up with it and – Hello Leanne! Are you so excited? I'm excited. I hope they have alchemy class, I'm super good at alchemy. I accidentally turned my brother's tail into a lizard but I still got an A.”

Alfred darted off after Leanne as she appeared, yawning and not functional. Thank god she could suffer instead. His siblings were generally dazzled by Alfred's insane stories. Centaurs and wizards, what bullshit! That weird giant stone circle incident was purely a one time thing. Sure Alfred was dropping feathers all over the place, and his huge wolf dog pet had freaky cyan eyes. It was just a dog... probably.

“Eat! Get dressed, go go go! We're going to be late!” Lars ordered, dropping breakfast on the table. Alfred interfered with everything, even Lars's perfect schedule. Claude loved the creepy dog and pet it senseless with wonder filled eyes. Leanne was distracted by tales of glittery adventures.

If only Alfred would shut up!

It was a miracle they reached the school bus at all. Alfred had a patch of duct tape over his mouth as Lars practically pushed him into the vehicle. With peace achieved, Lars was ready to fall over. These last four days with Alfred had exhausted him just a hair beyond his limits.

What Lars really needed was a day off. After four years of almost perfect attendance, he could take _one_ day off. Maybe call in sick, and really let go. He had a literal pile of gold in his bed, he could afford this.

Several weed candies and a magic mushroom later, Lars was a happy man on his couch. He had a tan fluffy Miffy on his chest, the bunny grooming herself proudly. Jenever and Puff hopped all about in a game of sorts, being goofy rabbits.

“I love you little bun buns.” he whispered to the room as a whole. All three bunnies hopped onto his chest now. Snuggling around his face they groomed and dug through his wild hair. “So cute!” He gushed, going along with it.

The dog was ignored as it stared at the wall. “I shouldn't be here.” It spoke in thick German accent, somehow familiar.

Lars's eyes went wide at this. The dog talked. The dog actually talked. How strong were these magic mushrooms?

“I was born to the house of Beilschmidt, to serve royalty. I don't deserve babysitting a wasted peasant.”

At the dog's words, all three bunnies perked up. Puff chewed her teeth in possible pain or anger, ears pinned flat.

The dog sat up, glaring at the bunny with almost human levels of expression. “I'm shocked you would say that! I'm not the bad guy here!”

Holy crap, the dog and the bunnies were conversing with each other. Lars sat up as the last two bunnies hopped to the floor and twitched their little bun bun noses. Miffy thumped hard on the floor after. The dog continued to talk to nothing, the bunnies hopping, twitching or thumping to stimuli.

“He is not a wizard. He's probably buying the food from a store... with money.”

“Wow. Language.”

“Well I don't have to take that from you Miffy. I'm going to eat a real breakfast, and I'm not sharing a drop of it.” 

At this threat, the dog glimmered with bright cyan sparkles. The wolfish body twisted and changed in a haze of magic to a grown man. This man had a tawny wolf pelt draped around his beefy shoulders, exquisite black and red clothes beneath. He pulled out an impressive steak from... somewhere in his wolf pelt cloak. The grumpy former pet started frying his dripping fresh meat in the egg pan from breakfast.

“What the fuck is going on...” Lars whispered, looking to his hands. They seemed alright. Miffy hopped back into Lars's lap, resembling a loaf of fluffy cuteness. Petting her absently, Lars stared at his wall. “No more drugs man.”

“Your familiars are severely lacking in manners, Baron Van den Berg. If you are a wizard at all.” The dog complained. Not being much of a dog at all, the very German man was now chopping up summoned vegetables with machine precision.

“You're a dog... dog man... how is this happening.” Lars mumbled.

“I am called Sir Ludwig of the house Beilschmidt. I am a royal knight assigned to protect Prince Alfred since his birth.” As the fancy hallucination man chatted, he tossed the veggies in the pan. Dumping some of Lars's spices on top, that meal was starting to smell delicious.

Lars's stomach growled, but he was too fucked up to stand. He settled for sniffing the air. “Oh wow that smells good.”

“As it should. I am not a barbarian that feeds guests dry kibble.” Summoning a shimmering pint of beer, the stuffy Ludwig sat served himself at the kitchen table.

Struggling to grasp what was going on, Lars attempted diplomacy. “Look, I didn't know you were a guy. You looked like a wolf dog thing, you sounded like a dog, I thought you were a dog.”

Ludwig didn't respond at first, draining a glass full of cold beer. He smiled to himself, no more than a slight smirk. “I am a good boy.”

Lars bristled defensively, releasing something really creepy. “Claude has been petting you for four days. I swear to god, if you transformed and did anything to him...”

The weird German guy raised one hand and put the other to his heart in oath. “I shall not harm a hair of your son, Baron. This I swear with honour. I am a noble knight of the Blood Moon after all.”

 _No more drugs ever again._ Lars was jilted and disturbed by this dog man's oath. He struggled to walk, the room swimming as he dragged heavy feet. Cuddly loaf Miffy was content to shift her rest to a nearby pillow. The other two bunnies also decided to nap, lumped together under the couch.

“Claude is... is not my son.” Lars hissed, barely making it to a kitchen table chair.

“He looked so similar... so only Leanne is yours?” This guy really had no clue as he flipped his frying steak and vegetables.

“No. I'm their older brother. I'm raising them myself.” Lars stated clearly, stealing Ludwig's beer stein. Pouring sparkly beer for himself, he took a swig. Wow, this stuff was amazing!

Ludwig looked away, scratching his neck. “Well... You look older.”

Ow. That stung Lars's pride fiercely. “I'm not old. I'm twenty three.”

The dog guy whistled but said nothing. Lars wasn't old! He was just stressed, tired, and overworked on a daily basis. “I'm not old!” He stammered weakly. “I'm fit as ever. You d-d-don't even know.”

“Sure you are.” The other guy dismissed, finishing up his cooking. Lars sulked, nursing his incredible beer in silence. Somehow, this dog was worse company than Alfred. That was certainly some kind of accomplishment.

When the kids came home from school, Lars was still grieving over his wounded ego. Helping Alfred, Claude, and Leanne out of their backpacks, the guardian figure hesitated.

“Guys, do I look old?” He asked his siblings timidly.

“Duh. You are old.” Leanne replied thoughtlessly, attention glued to her phone.

“Totally.” Claude agreed, fixing his stupid stylish hair fringe. He was into douche hair cuts and pre ripped jeans now, trying to impress other teens. Leanne was not far behind.

“Don't worry Baron Van den Berg! Some old person might find you attractive. That's where the money's at!” Alfred promised, absolutely blind to the hidden insults.

Lars slumped, eyes watery and sad. At least the bun buns treated him nice.


	7. Chapter 7

The first week on Eyarth, later corrected to Earth, was the worst week of Alfred's life. He missed his dad. He missed his death metal troll friends. He missed starberry pies on Friday with his brother. This was exile, crushing in it's isolation. Alfred couldn't pop down to the local market and buy a wand. He couldn't use the royal portals to zip off to insane parties.

He was trapped here, with nothing but Mr. No Fun for company. Ludwig was persistently _Ludwig_ , enforcing early bed times and strict living schedules. Alfred didn't deserve to be treated like this! He was a magical prince of Aloria! He was special by birthright!

This usual pompousness slowly crumbled throughout the week. After twelve days of pretending everything was fine, Alfred cracked. The quiet but dedicated family was watching some inane play on their lightning fuelled box, eating popped corn with caramel on top.

A soft sob broke the silence. Alfred sucked in a breath, his heart chilled from loneliness. The indifferent Baron merely looked over, then sighed. “About time.”

“What's the matter?” Leanne asked sweetly, her brown hair bobbing and she raced over in concern.

Ludwig rested his dog muzzle on Alfred's leg in vague comfort. Claude had recently caught Ludwig in the middle of conversation. Every time the dog talked, it was like Claude was experiencing Christmas all over again.

“Mister Dog? Why is Alfred crying?'” Claude asked cautiously, daring to sit next to the grieving prince.

“It's homesickness.” Lars spoke flatly, headed to the kitchen.

Leanne and Claude hugged the blubbering teen, attempting to squeeze the misery out of him. “Please don't cry. Earth isn't that bad.” Leanne tried her very best.

“I m-m-miss the purple skies and t-t-the griffins, and my d-d-dad...” Alfred hiccuped between tearful complaints. He didn't care if he looked like a mess. He had been trying his best to avoid bawling his eyes out for twelve days.

Lars, forever looking bitchy, returned with a glass of murky brown liquid. “Drink this.” With sparkle eyes, Both kids grasped at the holy drink. Lars swatted their greedy fingers away.

“It l-l-looks like mud.” Alfred whined between wet tears.

“It's happiness. Drink it.”

“Can we have chocolate milk? Oh come on, we were good all week!” Claude begged.

Lars rolled his eyes. “Only sad people get to drink chocolate milk.”

Leanne also teamed up against her older brother. “But you drink it all the time!”

Lars squinted at her, then silently pushed the cup at Alfred. The prince hesitantly accepted the bizarre beverage, and took a sip. A tingle of sugar... of _joy_. He had never drank such delicious nectar before. “What is this?”

“It's chocolate milk.” Lars explained, sitting on the couch again.

Alfred was wide eyed in wonder, once more spouting a million questions. Wiping his nose on a handkerchief, he dried his eyes on a sleeve. “What wondrous animal is a chocolate? Does it come in herds? Is there a chocolate farm we can visit?”

“Good as new.” The surprisingly compassionate Baron retorted. Did Alfred's new residence care about him? The idea was a radical one, that people of lower class didn't want to lynch royalty. Back home he needed Gilbert and Ludwig to set foot outside the royal garden.

“D-d-do you guys actually like me?” Alfred sniffled, daring to hope.

Baron Van den Berg shrugged, lighting a cigarette. That was as warm as he was some days. His family was more expressive.

“Of course we like you. You're funny.” Leanne patted the prince on the back.

“You have a magic puppy! You're the coolest!” Claude agreed, petting Ludwig senseless. The typically cold royal guard huffed, his wagging tail betraying him.

Alfred clutched the empty chocolate milk cup to his chest, smiling in relief. He was wanted here, and it brought him more joy than magic could possibly summon. He had to be optimistic for these bizarre people, with their lightning magic run contraptions and gory TV shows. “Maybe I'm not seeing the fun of high school. I should try harder on Monday.”

“Oh, no. School sucks.” Leanne clarified the truth quickly, shaking her head.

“It's a trial. If you don't kill yourself by the end, you get to be an adult.” The oldest brother explained with a curl of smoke and a smirk. It was impossible to tell if he was joking.

Sunday the family went hiking together in the woods behind the house. Apparently walking through untamed ruffage was entertainment. These people mysteriously liked Alfred despite him breaking a bunch of things. For this reason alone, the normally egotistical prince set aside his quarrels. If the group was walking through plants for fun, so was he.

Monday was a return to the trials of high school. With Alfred causing slightly less distractions than usual, the brood was waiting at the bus stop together. Lars was hovering nearby with a cigarette, glancing at his phone. He insisted on seeing the bus arrive.

Claude was all too eager to brag about one time the bus didn't arrive. Scared and alone, Leanne cried her eyes out at home until Lars returned from his university course. Nowadays, rain or shine, the dutiful older brother waited until every kid was on that bus.

Lars wasn't alone in his self assigned vigil. Ludwig was panting anxiously as he sat next to the royal prince. “You'll summon me with the amulet if you're threatened right?” The elite guard repeated sternly.

Alfred nodded, holding Matthew's protective trinket up on it's string. “Yep. I know the words.”

“You all brushed your teeth as well?” Lars chipped in, forever concerned under his mask of bitchy malaise.

“Omigosh yes we brushed stuff.” Leanne drawled impatiently, eyes glued to her phone.

The odd yellow school chariot arrived, already packed with other teenagers. Alfred was still nervous about entering the black striped vehicle. Baron Van den Berg insisted there was no magic in the world, yet beasts were not pulling this massive “bus”.

One squashed ride to school later, Alfred was keen to show off. Now that he knew high school was a sacred trial every teen had to survive, he was mentally prepared. Privately, he wondered of there was a combat component to this system.

First class was history. Earth history was shallow and boring, only going back roughly two hundred years. Alfred's private tutors had gone back easily one thousand, though each century was only lightly brushed upon. Fae folk, even mixed breeds like Alfred, lived centuries.

Math class was up next, easier than pie. Geography was mind numbing. Alfred was a prince in other dimensions. He didn't have the need or want to play cartographer. Besides, Earth continents were weird and jagged looking.

Lunch was one of Alfred's favourite subjects. Pizza, burgers, and fries were some of his favourite foods back home. He often used stealth to escape the castle and get corn dogs from the market. Here they had vouchers for the breaded delights.

Eating tray heaped with fries, Alfred sat next to Claude. He discovered early on that Leanne was obsessed with her public image, abandoning him only at lunch time. That was fair, the prince supposed. He couldn't rely on old alliances forever. If this chaos riddled lunch room was anything like a royal court gathering, new bonds would have to be found.

Claude was playing Magic the Gathering with his weird friends while Alfred tortured the last fry on his serving tray. He had finally decided to dress like other commoners after the first day of school. The villagers around here were ruthless in their snickering mockery. Still, most of his non-school uniform clothes had stars on them, or glitter.

“Who is that noble?” Alfred asked Claude, gesturing to the best dressed male in the room. The exceedingly tall male was better dressed that all the other followers he commanded, shaggy ash blond hair framing a cold slav face. He oozed authority, in the same way King Francis did when he was angry. This tall stranger had to be of interest.

Claude silenced, along with his peers. “That's... that's Ivan. We don't talk to him.”

Edward, one of the other kids, spoke up. “He's a violent monster.”

“An intimidating noble. Reminds me of Gilbert on a full moon... I can take him.” Alfred stood and marched over with confidence.

“No. Don't!” Claude whispered.

“That's it. He's dead. He's dead now.” Kiku shook his raven black short hair, before returning to his card game. 

Alfred didn't listen to other people often. He liked to think that was what made him so special. Even if such behaviour landed him in mundane exile, it was who he was. It would be foolish to deny his true self. The scary noble's table loomed near, absolutely packed with athletic types. This Ivan was at the centre of it all, accomplished at not one, but three sports. A triple threat of talent, no wonder he was the leader here.

Ivan looked over dismissively at Alfred, eyes cold and judging. The prince was a full foot shorter than this juggernaut. It was something that irritated Alfred. All fae kin had height complexes to some degree. Offering a hand anyway, Alfred spoke with full respectable pompousness.

“It seems you run this court. My name is Alfred, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Ivan glared, flipped a middle finger, and continued to eat his weird soup.

“Well, aren't you an ox.” Alfred huffed, stomping back to his original seat. He vented to Claude, who was still shocked over this series of events. “Can you believe it? He flipped me the most offensive of birds.”

The entire table gaped in shock. “You talked to him like that?” Eduard spoke up fearfully. “Oh you're super duper dead now.”

Alfred shrugged and ate his last tortured fry. “I don't see why. Nobles talk to each other all the time like that back home.”

After lunch, chemistry class arrived. Science was incredibly interesting in the mundane realm. Back home, physics was not a popular subject. Why would it be if you could violate reality with magic? Here was one of the few times Leanne was actively helpful. She frequently stopped the curious prince from playing with the Bunsen burners.

The last class of the day was fitness. This school was a private one, with ample funding and resources. Everyone had cute matching uniforms Dad would go crazy for back home. As a result, gym class had a full size pool and weight training room. Today was the first time Alfred would be participating in swim classes. This meant Alfred would have to shed his baggy star hoodie.

Ludwig had helped set up a basic glamour spell to hide the fluffy wing stumps that morning. Close scrutiny might show water going around something, but only a mere glimmer. The average earthling was so busy stressing about something that this was sufficient.

The stark reality of what Alfred was about to do hit him. Gravity was slight heavier on Earth. How would this affect Alfred and his light Fae build? The water here was probably fine... probably. Alfred drank some of it everyday and nothing bad had happened yet.

All twenty students were lined up at the pool side, rocking personal swimwear choices. Alfred was star spangled swimming trunks, while others wore more modest patterns. Ivan was the outsider in his sporty Adidas striped shorts, complete with a nice gold chain. He seemed to wear that masculine accessory everywhere. Just another sign of his nobility, Alfred supposed.

As the teacher talked, Alfred was distracted. He was 5'3'' and apparently one of the shortest boys here. How dare the other people reign over Prince Alfred of Aloria! He was tall for a mostly Fae creature! The worst offender was Ivan. He was a snooty 6'3'' and towering over Alfred with that glare of his.

Alfred didn't have a height complex like his dad. That Ivan fellow had a jerk complex and was too tall for no damn reason. What did they feed that lumbering hulk as a baby? It was so insane that –

“Alfred. Since you are so keen to learn, you can go first.” The teacher was sharp today, with his dorky swim cap and clear disapproval.

“Sure. What am I doing?” Alfred's jovial attitude was met with more sneers than chuckles. He mostly ignored them. He now stood at the edge of the blue tiled pool, peering curiously into aqua mystery.

“Demonstrate the butterfly stroke.” The adult explained dryly, repeating an example in the water himself.

Alfred jumped into the water with a small splash... and barely sank any real depth. Oh stars, this water was so warm and dense. Struggling to keep his cool in the sluicing material, Alfred surfaced and shook his golden hair. It was a struggle not to float completely and look like a freak. He managed just fine to do as the teacher demonstrated, moving along at modest speed.

Truth of the matter was Fae were creatures of air and water. It was impossible for Alfred to drown. Almost every Fae had wings or gills, sometimes both. He could sit at the bottom of this chemical laced pool for hours and contemplate his homesickness. The teen prince had a strong suspicious this would terrify and piss off Baron Van den Berg.

Instead Alfred swam in stupid lines with the other teens. Ivan and a few stragglers were the last to enter the pool. Lord of football, hockey, and soccer, Ivan was finally showing weakness in a competitive activity. He climbed into the pool slowly, his snide expression wilting to caution.

Curious, Alfred ducked under the water and swam along the bottom. Avoiding a gross band-aid along the way, he switched to a lane beside Ivan. Observing underwater, the situation was clear. The larger male was fighting valiantly to stay afloat. He paddled like a sprawling drunk bird, barely making progress.

After another minute, Ivan was allowing himself to dip below water level to move faster. In a fleeting glimpse, panicked eyes saw Alfred calmly sitting on the pool bottom. This was pitiful, enough that a decision was made. Alfred swam under the flailing male, then grabbed him by the torso. This guy was a pile of bricks, but Alfred's inhuman buoyancy balanced the load.

Ivan floated at water level, coughing and gasping for air. It was obvious going half the pool length almost killed him. They were barely at the real deep end. This was all met with silent eyes. Only the teacher raced over as everyone gaped. Finally, the shock of the class verbalized

_“You were underwater forever!”_

_“You could've drown!”_

_“Ha, Ivan can't swim!”_

_“He doggy paddles like a five year old!”_

Humiliated and furious, Ivan pushed Alfred away and laboured to the pool side. Heaving himself out like a miserable soaked cat, he stomped off to change. The teacher was hauling Alfred out of the pool at the same time.

“You were under for minutes. _Minutes_ , Kirkland. Don't scare me like that again!” The adult berated, real fear in his eyes.

“It's fine, sir. I'm super good at it.” Alfred murmured, thoroughly distracted. How much water had Ivan inhaled in panic? Was that going to make him die or become ill? Maybe he should ask the the guy at the end of class.


	8. Chapter 8

Ivan Braginsky woke up under thick covers, feeling more blah than usual. He wanted to call in sick for this Friday morning and hang with his boys at the 24/7 gym. His pride wouldn't let him, relentless and angry. Four days ago that new kid had humiliated him twice. It was a crushing set back for the popular jock. There was a reason he avoided swim class for so long.

Ivan was too damn heavy to swim. He was a lean buff sports machine that tackled like a truck. All the muscle was heavy, the bones were heavy... he was just a dense guy. Secretly, he was thankful that weirdo helped him. He was taking in too much water that day, struggling to finish one lap.

Still, high school was a shark pit. Genuine gratitude or feelings were the blood that whipped everyone into a frenzy. Ivan ran a tight ship of followers through sports teams and terror. This potentially life saving gesture meant one thing. Alfred Kirkland was trying to dethrone him through acts of kindness.

_How vile._

Anger renewed, the tall teen through aside his knitted blanket. Kicking through clutter and laundry, he clicked off his soothing death metal alarm clock. The screeching and growls of misery really pulled him through some tough times.

“BOY! WASH YOUR DISHES!” Father roared from downstairs. The tone alone gave it away, a condition of semi-lucid drinking.

Ivan ignored this, knowing what would happen if he went down stairs. There was no one else to take all the rage. Katya have moved out a year earlier, taking young Natalia with her. With no sisters to share the burden it was Ivan versus a relentless bastard.

Instead, he grabbed his bug out bag and school stuff. Climbing out the window, he scaled down the tree close to the window. Going two blocks over, Ivan climbed over a fence and up another tree. Thus was the back up routine of Ivan Braginsky when his dad was on a drunk bender.

Why, steal someone else's house of course. Of the few people meek enough to bend to Ivan's will, Toris was the most willing to assist. The others mostly screamed. Toris and Ivan had perhaps too much in common. They had drunks for parents, though Toris's were both alive very tame. They both used sports to cover up their academic short comings.

Toris was one hell of a basketball player, Ivan was willing to admit that much.

Seeing Ivan prying at Toris's window, the brunette sighed. He didn't actually like Ivan, but he saw an ugliness in the other he resonated with. They were both in an ugly situation and couldn't get out. Like drowning rats, they were both trying to swim for their lives. Opening the window, Toris gestured in.

Ivan climbed in like a lumbering cat, dropping his bags on the floor. “I'm stealing your shower.”

“Of course you are.” The gangling teen mumbled, going back to bed. It was an ungodly time in the morning after all. Toris was in hideous Lithuanian flag sleeping pants, which he thought were dashing.

A quick shower and two stolen poptarts later, Ivan was on his way. He had a plan for when Dad was roaring drunk like this. There was that abandoned tree house in the woods. It was looking pretty small these days given how bulky Ivan was. There was the park, or loitering by the strip mall until school hours.

There was the ghost of a Blockbuster a few blocks from school, entirely abandoned. No one had rented the space in two years. It showed, the parking lot cracked and grassy with weeds. Electricity still ran here, so Ivan often hid inside. Today he was resting on his bed of grass stuffed garbage bags, charging his phone and playing a game on it. Occasionally he quieted as very inept security walked by from a neighbouring property.

Sometimes Ivan wondered if there was more to life than sports and this shit hole city. School was going to start soon, and Ivan readied himself. The educational institution was his real home. He bullied food off other kids, taking warm naps in secret nooks. He thrived in a group of sports enthusiasts like himself. His marks were usually stellar, with a few dips in performance. Beating up kids for money even earned him enough money to buy nice clothes.

It was more or less a perfect system for covering up how dire the home situation was. At least Toris's drunk parents mostly ranted and slept. Ivan's dad was straight up mean.

Community service and volunteering was the ultimate life saver. Ivan pitched in for everything from garbage picking day to helping the elderly. The authority loved him, the teachers respected him, and the peon students feared him. He was king of this tiny world, and nothing would dethrone him.

That weird new kid had disrespected Ivan twice, threatening his iron rule. It was time to dole out royal punishment. After another great day of school, Ivan was cleaning up in the school showers. Football made Ivan sweat like crazy, so this was needed to save the world from his odours. The absolute last student to leave school grounds, he took his time in the luxuries of heated water.

If Dad was still in a shit mood by tomorrow, this could be his only daily shower. Now dry and three quarters dressed, he mentally planned the rest of his night. Where to sleep was an issue. By sheer luck, a gift walked in. It was that stupid foreigner, Alfred.

This was the perfect outlet to pulverize Ivan's frustrations on.

“Hey, uh... sports man, I know we started off bad. But you almost died in the pool on Monday, so... Are you okay?”

 _Sports man?_ this plebe didn't even know who Ivan was. The nerve of him! “I'm just great.” With a cruel grin, Ivan walked over and launch a speedy punch to the boy's stomach. The hit never landed, dodged by the flighty newcomer.

In a flash of blue light, Ivan was temporarily blinded. As he stumbled around drunkenly for a wall, curses echoed from Alfred. “Oh my gods, was that a spell?” This wheezing nonsense was whispered a few times. 

Vision clearing, Ivan recovered from staggering, ready to battle once more. Only, his target was different now. Alfred was... absolutely beautiful, like living art. His lips were rose petals. His hair was just the right golden shade. His freckles were like delicious seeds on prize winning bread. There was literally nothing more perfect than Alfred... Alfred with a last name, in the known universe.

Instantly, tears sprang to Ivan's eyes. He had tried to punish the most lovely creature ever witnessed, and this was unforgivable. “I'm so sorry I wanted to hurt you! I have so many problems and you... You're too wonderful to tolerate my presence. Please forgive me beautiful man, I'm so... so sorry!”

Ivan blubbered in the deepest remorse felt since his mother died. He knelled on the still wet floor before this living angel, clutching Alfred's sparkly star sweater.

“Oh no, oh no, this is totally a spell. Dad is going to freak!” Alfred fretted, absently patting Ivan's damp hair. It was the touch of divinity and forgiveness Ivan craved. He pressed into Alfred's palm like a needy cat.

Alfred's attention was the only thing Ivan need, and the world was good.


	9. Chapter 9

Queen Arthur of Aloria was reading over economic charts in his vast study. Candle light flickered as he browsed giant regular books and tiny fae sized scrolls. With King Francis kissing up to the Welsh dragons up north, Arthur was free to tackle the emerging wool crisis in Southern Aloria. 

A tiny green gem on his silk belt began flashing erratically. Someone was calling him, and it was an emergency. Tapping the magic device, Arthur relaxed on his royal pillow. A emerald to forest green ghost of a soldier materialized. It was harmless, an astral projection of Arthur's trusty troll body guard.

“Your grace, a call has come from dimension 57. I kill the plebes that interrupt your studies?” The massive lumbering guard greeted, his misty form deep in bow.

“From that... Eyarth place?”

“Yes your greatness.”

Arthur lolled on his pillow, groaning. It was probably his son again. The boy was in exile. Alfred wasn't supposed to call every third day and chatter about his day. Arthur had a job important to three dimensions and one empire.

“Ugh... put it up on my magic mirror.” The weary parent sighed.

The vaporous image of the troll turned real, a bulky metal clad troll with the strength of ten men. With scraping noisy gait, the clumsy guard held a massive divining mirror up. The sooner the call was finished, the better. Trolls were amazing soldiers but horrifyingly gassy. A pair of flatulent trolls could clear out a room in minutes.

The mirror's standard reflection flickered. It became the common room of that Baron's house. It was the baron himself, spiked hair and casual commoner clothes. The very fashionable sunglasses in his hair clearly marked him above the rest of the house hold.

“Baron van den Berg. I'm surprised to see you.”

The human land owner cleared his throat, looking to a note. “Yes, your um... gracefulness. A situation came up with your kid at school.”

Arthur paused in thought, wondering if he even owned a baby goat on that planet. 

“Alfred. Your child, your kid, you know, the one with wing stubs?”

“Ah yes, my darling idiot. What is he up to in my absence?” Arthur asked, finally understanding. Why Eyarthlings called their hatchlings baby farm animals was a cultural mystery.

The baron cut to the point, tilting the view of the magic mirror. It panned to a massive human, or possibly a small pink troll, fawning over Alfred. It was weaving flowers into chains, draping them around Alfred. All the while, the imbecile son giggled and soaked in endless praise.

The mirror was turned back to Baron van den Berg. “He did something to this school student. This guy is building a shrine to Alfred in my kitchen.”

Off to the side, Alfred's loud voice was heard. “Dad, I cast a love spell! Isn't that amazing!?”

Arthur pursed his lips, holding in sharp words. Love spells, ones that actually worked, were forbidden and complex. It was literally illegal to practice love magic. Alfred had the magical acuity of a wet rock. Yet here was a human awestruck and silly over Alfred so much as breathing. More investigation was needed on site. No one in the royal court could discover this latest fuck up. It would only be fuel for pro-human interests itching to destroy Fae power.

“I will come fix this personally.” Arthur soothed, cursing internally. “Thank you for telling me of this, Baron.”

“No problem, your... fanciness.” The human bid goodbye, obviously reading compliments off a card. Good. Arthur demanded respect, even if it was off a card.

With the call over, Arthur's magic mirror went back to normal. The troll guard hung it back on the wall.

“I pack now to visit crappy planet with you?” The guard asked, his bravery making up for his lack of grammar.

“Of course Crusitor. It's a new place. Now, there's no magic there, so – Oh gods! Crusitor, did you eat asparagus again?” There was in fart in the room that could kill lesser creatures, and it was probably the guard's fault. 

“Very delicious.” the troll grumbled, unashamed of himself. Well, this was going to be a stinky trip.


	10. Chapter 10

Lars felt awkward. This whole meeting didn't feel real, like he fell into a fantasy novel. There was a seven foot tall creature in full plate mail sitting on his now broken couch. Supposedly the green skinned humanoid was a forest troll, a royal guard of sorts. Sitting on it's burly shoulder was a three inch fairy man, looking over equally tiny scrolls. 

Supposedly, this winged figment of madness was Alfred's father. Mr. Kirkland, _Queen_ as he insisted to be known, was looking over his prepared material. Lars was sitting in shock on a folding chair, while Claude loved every second.

Alfred and the poor student from school were totally fine with all this. The dog... Ludwig the werewolf soldier, Lars corrected internally himself. The guy pretending to be a dog was complaining openly, a rarity.

“Mein Gott Crusitor, what do you eat?” Ludwig whined, being a lump on Claude's lap. The boy was happily brushing rough wolf fur, eliciting a tail wag from the grumpy creature.

“Dedicated vegetarian, dog man.” The troll quipped, clearly familiar with Ludwig. Lars wasn't sure what the problem was. The troll guy was kind of gassy, but it was nothing compared to other people. Was Lars's sense of smell blunted by a decade of smoking? Probably.

“No, this is no good. I need Felix's lab to analyze what's going on.” The fairy queen summarized, easily heard despite his fragile size. One more hovering inspection was performed on coloured dragonfly wings. Ivan giggled at the tiny figure flitting around him, flush with love induced bliss. 

“So pretty, Alfred, isn't he?” The huge jock crooned, sounding drunk as he held Alfred's hand.

“No good, no good. I need specific equipment. Baron van den Berg, I need to bring this afflicted person to my royal seer. I trust this will cause no problems, for my castle has powerful security spells.” The fairy spoke with cutting authority, clearly intending to do what he wanted.

“Um... do what you have to do.” Lars stammered slightly as he spoke, unsure how to function in this moment. There was no book for this in university. Last second, he remember to read off a cue card. “... your elegance.”

“Lars Lars Lars can I please please please please go to the super cool magic castle?” Claude begged with sparkling eyes.

“Oh that could be fun!” Alfred chimed in.

The dog guy perked up, looking between Lars and his ruler for order confirmation. The fairy didn't seem to care in the slightest what Lars's younger brother did, already packing up his tiny scrolls and magical implements.

“I can't just throw him into another dimension.” Lars objected, struggling to keep up with events.

“I ensure his absolute safety if you allow Claude's travel, Lord van den Berg.” The wolf promised this with full formalities an animal could perform.

Lars had seen the severe blond warrior use his freakish werewolf strength to tear open a can of peaches. Apparently cans were not a thing where the guy was raised, completely vexing him. Claude was probably going to go to the castle anyway, as stubborn as Lars. Ludwig was as good as a gun or the police.

“I suppose you can go. Be back for school on Monday, or I'll get you myself.” Lars threatened, mostly a front to eternal anxiety.

Claude dumped the dog on the floor, then crashed into Lars for a rare hug. The folding chair wobbled a little from impact. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Get... get packed, okay?” Lars mumbled, ruffling his brother's hair.

Six minutes later, Claude tore out of his room. It was obvious he jammed clothes and basic hygiene items into a bag. A sock was hanging out of the front like a white woolly tongue. Tucking the sock in with care, Lars anxiously fretted over his own teen aged kin. “Don't talk to strangers, okay? Be nice to the castle people, and don't –”

“Geez, _Dad_ I'll be fine! Let's go already.” Claude interrupted, unaware of his wording.

Lars was excruciatingly aware of it though. He locked up in something he couldn't pin down, a weird situation all around. “Sure. Um, have fun.” He mumbled, finally backing away and allowing space.

“Very well then, let's get moving.” The fairy ordered, hardly bothered to do anything himself. He lazily sat in his guard's large open hand, his diminutive possessions beside him.

Ludwig shifted with a glitter of cyan magic to his human form, buff as ever. With measured smooth gestures, the guard drew a glowing circle in the air. It slowly materialized into a familiar stone gate, etched with arcane symbols.

Claude watched all this in wonder, hands on his cheeks. He looked to Lars, then to Ludwig. In hushed whispers, nonsense fell out of the teen's face. “Did you know he could do that, I didn't know he could do that. Can other doggies do that in magic land? Is there... Is there...”

Man, that kid needed to breathe.

With a flurry of waving hands, the group walked into the glittering black portal. The stone gate faded away after, leaving Lars truly alone. He was all by himself, and there was... nothing he had to do.

The troubling “Dad” moment sat on Lars's shoulders like bricks. He wasn't anyone's dad. He was twenty three. Lars was young and hip and crunk... was that the lingo? Oh god, he was out of touch with the lingo of today! No, he was fine! Lars was definitely... with it.

With Leanne gone to a friend's house, the lanky man had time to kill. Despite the isolation weirdness of this entire day, Lars was determined to enjoy this Friday evening. An entire Friday evening to himself! Lars had not experienced a whole night to himself since... Wow. He couldn't remember the last time this happened.

This was not sad. Lars van den Berg was not a sad person! He was cool as a cucumber. He just needed to clean up for a wild night on the town. After a quick shower and shave, Lars tried on his favourite leather jacket and zipped it up.

With a single constricted breath, it was clear this was no longer his favourite jacket. Unzipping it quickly, he gasped for air and peeled the high school relic off. He probably should have known better. The stylish thing had not been worn on a date for... Huh. He couldn't recall when that was.

Three shirts later, he found himself in a colourful band shirt that still had a price tag on it. Recalling how much he saved on the purchase sparked joy. Ripping off the tag, he slipped the graphic T on. Complete with his flashy new sunglasses, Lars was ready to party.

All this bravery faltered before he put a foot out the door. Lars realized, outside of Craiglist.com contacts from when he sold drugs, he didn't know any interesting places. No, he knew fun people though. Lots of fun people... He knew...

Despite having forty contacts on his phone, most of them were were responsibility related. His doctor, his sibling's school, the family lawyer, his university contacts and work partners, the dentist... There was one cool guy here not related to pushing pot! Yes! Lars knew he was cool! Eagerly calling the number, he was met with a distressing message. The number was out of order.

Defeated and salty, Lars lay on his broken tilting couch with the bunnies. Miffy, Jenever, and Puff were let out of their cage. After running off energy around the house, the loved pets became fluffy loafs on Lars's legs.

Three hours into a documentary series about bridges, Lars whined to his only willing audience. “My little bunnies, when did I become so lame?”

Miffy, the most possessive pet, nudged his hands for petting.

“Yes of course.” Lars complied, petting relaxed ears. Jenever napped on his folded knees, cuddled with a drowsy Puff. It was bunny serenity.

The peace was broken with a sizzle of now familiar portal magic. The bunnies bolted, true to their prey instincts. Finding and soothing them again would be a chore. Sighing, Lars sat up and expected a big stone gate to crush his TV again. Ludwig's lot had a pretty good record for ruining things Lars enjoyed.

This portal was almost silent as it formed, curved maple tree branches framing a gold ring. This portal was also much taller than the sturdy stone version. Out of the glittering blackness, a freckled blond appeared. He bore a striking resemblance to Alfred, though pale with long wavy locks. Calm lavender eyes locked onto Lars.

“Excuse me, are you Baron van den Berg of Lanark County?”

It was clear, this man was astoundingly gorgeous. His voice was soft like a meadow breeze, expression dimpled and innocent. Lars stood in a rush, hoping he didn't look like garbage. “Yes that is me... I'm, yes. I am who you're looking for.”

_Smooth as gravel._

If Lars's stammering idiocy was deterring that handsome magical stranger, it didn't show. “I came to inform you of the situation going on at the castle.”

Silent terror of Claude being eaten by magic beasts surfaced immediately. “Is Claude okay? He doesn't have any allergies, but he's bad around sweets.” Lars blurted out words fearfully, not accustomed to his brood running off in another dimension.

The stranger left his portal, the passage fading away behind him. “He's perfectly fine. Ludwig is accompanying Claude while Skullcrusher and Crusitor protect the royals. Werewolves and onion farts... don't mix. Ludwig's sense of smell is astounding.”

There was a long moment of the stranger gazing at Lars, then looking away with a faint blush. “Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Alfred's brother, Matthew. I'm royal ambassador, and a dozen other titles. It would be presumptuous to list them all.” With this, the man gave a shallow bow much like the Japanese would.

There was something off with Matthew's legs, but Lars was tactful enough to ignore it for now. It was like the exceedingly tall male's lower body was a mirage or really fuzzy. This sensation only occurred when Lars stared at it too long. He realized they were standing and staring at each other. More than ever, Lars noticed someone was a few inches taller than him. Never in his entire life had anyone been taller than him. Lars was over six feet before he gelled up his hair. 

“Tea?” he offered, still disarmed by the pretty man.

“Yes please. May I sit?” Matthew gestured to the broken couch.

“Of course.” Lars confirmed the obvious as he left for the kitchen.

With the kettle started, Lars sat in his abused recliner chair. There was more silence, and a need to say something at once. Matthew's legs looked like they were being viewed through dirty plastic wrap and it was driving Lars nuts.

“Have I offended you?” Matthew prompted shyly from hooded gaze.

“No... Yes... No, it's... Your legs are bugging me. It's a spell isn't it? Like Alfred's wing stubs?” Whatever it was, it was terrible and Lars wanted the effect gone.

At this Matthew was surprised. “I wasn't told you had the sight, but... getting a street charm to cover me up was ambitious. Are you sure you want to see my true form?”

“Anything is better than this effect, I'm sure.” Lars was surprised at the words falling out of his face hole. This pretty person was making his brain stop working.

As Matthew chatted, he was flipping through magic charms that hung off a great key ring. “As a diplomacy professional, I was warned Earth was very xenophobic. I thought this might make first contact easier.”

“A _very opinionated_ talking dog has been living in my house for nineteen days. A troll broke my couch then ruined my bathroom. I'm very open minded now.”

“That would incite some, but broaden others.” Matthew agreed. He clicked a charm that resembled a shiny ladybug, and the falsehoods fell away. The gross camera filter effect evaporated, to reveal a glossy palomino coat and cream coloured horse tail. Matthew's hair was now slightly longer as well, hiding pointed elven ears.

“You're a... a... a...” Lars was once more overloaded. There was a centaur on his couch. There was a centaur and he looked ridiculously cute, with hair commercial hair. This entire stressful day was getting to him, weakening his knees. None of this felt real at all. The room spun and faded away as Lars passed out.

Lars woke up on his bed, orange flowers scattered over him. While two bunnies sniffed him in concern, Jenever was standing to investigate the book from the bedside. The centaur was standing at the bedside, talking to himself, as he browsed a leather bound tome. There was beats of silence to give the impression of conversation.

“This should have worked by now.”

“I know that!”

“Now, I did not kill him. He fell over on his own. I'm trying to fix the situation.”

Was yet another weird person talking with his bunnies? This possibility was likely the case, with Miffy being bizarrely brave. She hopped over to Matthew's nearing hand and promptly bit it.

“Ow! I'm not killing him!” Matthew hissed, glaring at the possessive tan bunny. She resumed her post on Lars's chest, looking at the magical being.

“Miffy no.” Lars mumbled, groggy as he revived. All three bunnies lost their collective marbles, hopping and binkying about on the covers. After calming they all sniffed his face and cuddled in his arm pits. Miffy burrowed under his shirt and became a lump.

Matthew rolled his eyes but knelled on the bed with front horse legs. Bending forward slightly with his human upper body, the ambassador felt for fever curiously. Miffy peeked her little eyes out from Lars shirt. She was probably going to lunge, clearly not trusting Matthew. Lars blocked her lesser aggression with a hand.

Lars looked up at his impromptu care giver, brain still not functioning. “You're a centaur.”

“I'm a centaur. I understand if I make you uncomfortable. The couch was broken so...” The magical horse man seemed put out as he flicked his horsey tail. The impossible cutie was mashed into the bedroom, too large for convenience. Generally, houses were not make for horse mobility.

“No... no! I'm, just... give me a minute to process this.” Lars stared, looked away, then stared again. The bunnies looked adorable, giving him any excuse to focus on distractions. There was several gentle ear scratches. Finally, the tall dutch adult was able to use adult words. “You're a centaur. I'm talking with a centaur.”

As Matthew spoke, he dared to smile. “I take it there's no centaurs on this planet?”

Lars shook his head. He remembered he could talk again. “Only in stories. I never thought I'd see one. I didn't think one would be so...”

There was a long empty moment, the two males just looking at each other. Matthew frowned, probably assuming the worst. Oh god, Lars was being a shitty panicking host that fainted. He needed to finish his sentence with anything. “... cute.”

Cute. _Cute_. Lars had to have that stumble out of his brain? Was he having a stroke?

Matthew blushed once more, long pointed ears flicking back a moment. They had the same mobility of horse ears, which made sense. “Why, thank you Baron.”

Lars closed his big mouth before anything else fell out of it, lips in tight line. It was the unearthly diplomat's turn to break the ice. “Are many humans as tall as you?”

“Well, no. When my mom was alive...” Lars couldn't stop himself, falling back into conversation. They both were sliding around own their own awkwardness, yet conversation marched on. Lars distantly forgot he was talking to a magic horse man, entertained by present company.

They talked about themselves, their parents, their respective occupations. There was no topic they didn't glance upon, eventually sipping tea and snacking on cookies. At some point in this fun social exchange, Lars yawned wide and resumed laying on his bed. He looked on the window realizing it was dark out. Huh, when did that happen?

Matthew was not oblivious, noticing the same thing. He did a wide open arm stretch, yawning with a soft whinny of noise. Tail flicking, the centaur ran fingers through loose locks. “It's moonrise already? I really must be going. But um, I can give you this.” Tan cheeks dusting with colour, the ambassador removed a charm from his royal red satchel. A red and gold leaf charm was offered, deceptively heavier than it's size.

Lars took it with reverence, then looked up at the centaur. “What is it?”

“Oh it's... It's a contact charm, so we can magic mirror across dimensions. In case, you might want to meet. Meet up. Um, again for something.” The centaur seemed equally flustered as Lars, not knowing where to look.

“Oh. Yes. Yes I can do that.” Lars sputtered.

There was a long moment of them breathing and peeking looks at each other. Finally the unnamed energy in the room solidified to a single huff of humour. Matthew laughed, it was a rich sound and Lars enjoyed it.

“I'm... I'm stuck in here. It took me forever to get in this room, and I'm very certain I won't get out.” The honesty of Matthew's situation was only rivalled by it's comedy. It was obvious the hall was a mess, all the family photos knocked off the walls.

The ridiculousness of this entire day cracked Lars's stony expression. His stuck up professor essentially bitched about his wife in architectural lingo. Alfred dragged home a semi-violent love slave. A troll messed up his bathroom. Finally, an adorable centaur was trapped in his bedroom.

Lars laughed. It was a warm thing he let loose only a few times a month. No, a year at this rate. “No, It's fine. I'll move the bed. I'm an architecture student. We can figure this out.” Pushing all the furniture against one wall, Lars was sweaty as he hunched and rested hand on slightly bent knees.

“Whew, so. Okay. I think we have enough room. Do a twirl.” He spoke with vague authority, twirling a hand in gesture.

Matthew pranced in place as he made a tight circle. That bulky palomino lower body had room just fine. “Oh I love this. I can move again.” The clip clop of hooves finally settled, one centaur embassador pleased.

“You know, people think my university course is pointless. Now I can brag to the kiddos that it helped me unstuck a centaur.” Lars took a long minute to realize what he bragged. Finally he put hands to his mouth in shock. He completely forgot about ditching Claude in another dimension for hours!

“Claude must be... and Leanne! I haven't looked for her texts in hours!” Lars gasped, disgusted by his lack of care.

“I'm sure they're safe.” Matthew soothed, then glanced out the window again. “I really do need to go. Can I portal here?”

Lars nodded in resignation, charismatic as a cactus. “Try not to break anything, I guess. I mean. I'll figure out how to use this thing, and we can talk. You seem fun, and. Fun is. Good.”

“Yes. You're also tall, and um, I look forward to seeing you later.” With that, the centaur drew forth a silent portal. The bunnies all sniffed it curiously, then looked to their caretaker. Lars was awestruck by the sight of non-destructive nature magic, pressing the charm to his chest.

Matthew waved goodbye shyly, trotting into the glittering void. The portal vanished after, leaving Lars to wonder what the hell just happened. No one was going to believe any of this, whatever this was. The only things left to do was obvious.

Lars sat on his broken sad couch and waited for his baby brother to return.


	11. Chapter 11

Claude was bursting with joy and energy upon his return home. There was places he visited that glittered with magic. There was enchanting forests and vast abandoned battlefields. Ludwig showed him parts of “Heimfeld”. It was a dimension where Ludwig's pack lived and trained for combat. Many creatures, big and small, did the same.

Since werewolves were immortal from regeneration, time there was unreasonably flexible. This infinite realm was where many werewolves blew off steam between work hours. Claude had only been away from Earth for six hours, yet spent a week in a mystical place. He had camped under the stars with werewolves. He had climbed a mountain of blue crystal peaks. Northern lights of orange and white had lit up the sky near sacred stones. Claude had earned himself a full tan and a priceless life experience.

No one was inclined to agree. Alfred didn't seem to care about the Hiemfeld trip, brooding in his room. Whatever happened to Alfred must have been awful. The other teen could at least pretend to care Leanna didn't believe a word coming out of Claude's excited face.

Lastly, there was Lars himself. The pseudo-parent was staring into the distance and looking grossly pleased with himself. It was now Monday morning, like the weekend had never happened at all. All three teens were corralled at the kitchen table as Lars did everything at once. Between buttoning on his own shirt and preparing laundry, he was chugging his coffee.

“Are you even listening? I saw rainbow northern lights with a pack of werewolves! It was real and it was amazing!” Claude ranted in frustration.

Lars meanwhile, rolled his eyes. “I'm sure there was mountains of diamonds and gold. You still have finish your science homework. I don't care if you do it on the bus to school, but get it done.”

“There was mountains of Azantium, a mineral that isn't even on the earth. You don't even care _Lars_.” The teen whined, poking his scrambled eggs bitterly.

“Oh my god, just eat. We have to go in six minutes.” Leanne spoke with impatience, already leaving her chair.

Alfred looked ready to burst into tears, not eating much himself. Supposedly Ivan's memory had to be erased by several days, before the known bully was cursed. No one understood why Alfred was taking this so hard.

Abandoning crappy scrambled eggs, Claude tugged Alfred gently out of his seat. “Come on, it's time to go. School is super distracting, it'll make you feel better.”

Alfred sniffled, dabbing away sparkling starts of tears. With a click of a magic charm, the golden blonde hid his wing stubs via magic. “Yeah I mean, I actually like art class.”

Standing at the bus stop was awkward. Leanne pretended to text someone, avoiding the awkward cloud of sadness beside her. Lars attempted consoling the upset fae yesterday, but had the emotional range of a rock. Claude didn't want to engage Alfred either, but the guy looked ready to fall apart. Some one had to say something.

“So um, it's going to be okay.” Claude offered quietly.

Alfred snapped unexpectedly, making Leanne and Claude flinch. “It's not going to be okay! My magic finally manifests after all this time, and it's curse magic! Curse magic is banned in like, so many places! I'll never get to show off! I have to wear gloves the rest of my fucking life! MY LIFE IS RUINED!”

The dramatic teen was lightly slapped upside the head with Lars's university homework. “Calm down. The bus is coming.” Lars scolded the teen, unaffected by the hysterics.

Alfred's face reddened from anger, but he obeyed. All three youths filed onto the bus once it stopped. Not wanting to deal with a moody Alfred, Claude slipped into a back seat by the emergency doors. Leanne was brave enough to sit next to the pissy teen. Yikes.

The bus dumped off students at the school, swarms of teens squeezing into the prestigious school building. In the chaos, Claude only watched things transpire. There was a cold realization creeping up his spine into his brain. It was a heavy concept that had been bothering him for months, crystallized by the arrival of Alfred.

_Was this all there was to life?_

Rushing to school, from school, to work, from work. Always running until the end. This was not running with the wolves in ancient forest. This had no beauty, no poise. Where was the purpose in this frenzied existence?

For the first time in ages, Claude decided to take the day off. Walking away from the property in a dark haze, he ended up at a Starbucks. Of course, he had no money to buy anything. Lars was a cheap bastard on the allowance front. Five dollars didn't buy shit these days.

Feeling the weight of existential unknowns, the teen ended up at a park. Autumn leaves were aflame with colour as they fell in collages on wet lawn. This was all so beautiful, but Claude had difficulty enjoying it. He stared at the wolf emblem charm in his hands. 

Ludwig had given it to him during the weekend, a calling device if the human was in danger. Claude was conflicted and morose, but he didn't know if this constituted an emergency. What else could The dog be doing at home? Be bored out of his mind? Do those weird naps that were exactly 17 minutes long?

Contacting him now was probably fine, come to think of it.

Claude pressed the device, then spoke into it. “Ludwig? Are you there?”

The device glowed with red magic a minute later. “Yes, are you in distress?” The voice was tinny and small coming through.

“I'm...” Claude looked around this empty park a moment, the loneliness of it affecting him. “I need advice.”

The device stopped glowing, now quiet. Claude was stupid to involve Alfred's awesome talking dog in things. He was a fool to think the other cared. A minute later, he was proven wrong. A familiar stone portal materialized a few feet away. Ludwig emerged in full family heraldry and chain shirt, a mighty war axe on his back. When the portal faded, The medieval looking guard turned to Claude.

“Little hundchen, you are not in school?”

Claude shook his head, hiding behind his hipster hair fringe.

The old park bench groaned as Ludwig sat beside him. “What is the matter?”

“What's the point to living? School is running around, work is running around. Look at Lars, he's ready to fall over from stress. Why? Why anything.” As Claude ranted, he could feel his eyes prickle with feeling. He didn't want to live like this, caught in a meaningless life cycle.

Ludwig patted him on the back. “No tears Hundchen. I will show you something.”

“Okay.” Claude whispered, following the intimidating warrior. The portal was summoned once more, Ludwig gesturing the way. Trusting the man, Claude entered the chilly magical void. He found himself at a mystic golden spring, the red moon high above a dark forest canopy. The water gave a golden glow that washed foliage in rippling light.

“Heimfeld. We're back in Heimfeld.” Claude dared breathe the words, in awe.

“This is a special place, Claude. Come, sit.” Ludwig patted a log, easing onto it to sit. The teen obeyed, wide eyes as he took in everything.

“Do you know why I'm so patient?” The guard prompted quietly, not one for volume.

Claude shrugged. “Um, training?” 

There was a chuckle as Ludwig took off his helmet and set it aside. “Well that too, but there's a bigger reason. I was born and raised here, along with my brother Gilbert. The pack was my life, and I swore my oath to the order of the red moon. I did that here before this very pond. The thing I didn't know about then was being assigned to the Kirklands.”

“Are they mean to you?” 

Ludwig shook his head. “No. They can be indifferent and rude, but they mean no harm. It's the time dilation difference. My home world is 28 times faster than Aloria or Earth. I'm bound and in sync with my home, but no where else. A day is an eternity. A night is a siege of darkness.”

The ridiculousness of this statement struck Claude hard. How could time here be 28 times faster than living in Ohio? How did Ludwig survive one earth day? Did he think 28 times faster?

“Under normal circumstances, I would be given a more reasonable station. King Bonnefoy wanted the best guards. A guard that only needed 17 minute naps every few hours seemed wonderful to him.”

At this, Claude was disgusted. “That's so selfish of him. Your world must be so confusing all the time.”

The warrior hummed and stared at the golden pond, tenting his fingers. “My brother says the same thing. He's being posted somewhere with lower dilation in the Alorian spring. Me I'm... I'm stuck with the royal fae prince. The point, little hundchen, is that life is not about where you run to. It's not about how much you run.”

Brushing some of his own hair fringe out of the way, Claude struggled against his own shyness. “It's not?”

“Nein, It's about how much fun it is to run. You have to engage your inner wolf and really _run_. It is what we were all born to do. I love my job, when the prince lets me perform it. If this is being trapped in a cycle of running, may the cycle never end.”

Claude shook his head, looking away. “I'm just a boy at the end of the day.”

“Nein! You ran with my pack under the red moon, you joined us in the forests. You are wolf-kin, and my friend.”

At this proud declaration, Claude blushed. It had been a pretty intense weekend. One of the pack alphas even liked him, allowing Claude to groom burrs out of thick fur. “We're friends?”

“Ja. You have taken care of me for 672 days, and I am very grateful. This has been the nicest year I have served in... centuries.” At this, Ludwig rippled with magic, resuming a large wolf bigger than Claude. It was a battle form, and Ludwig's actual birth body. It was huge, strong, and magnificent. Any other form stifled him, eyes like blue candle flame.

The numbers being mentioned were more outrageous, since Ludwig had only been on Earth less than a month.

“One ride around the stone pillars of Greyfang, then back to school. Okay?” The offer was given in a husky growl, the only voice the canine body could give.

Eyes shining, Claude abandoned his school things on the log. He wasn't afraid of such large fangs. He was not a boy, or a teen. He was wolf-kin, and he would _run_. “Okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

Ivan was missing 48 hours of his life, and he did not like it. He subtly asked questions throughout the week, but reached no explanation. “I was drunk of my ass those days.” He would lie, when questioned about his ignorance. There was something warm and fulfilling that had happened in that 48 hours, now ripped away. It was a indescribable something that hadn't been felt in years.

Simply put, the missing moment felt like a hole in his chest. With a teen as angry as Ivan, only one thing could fill the void. Pure hatred for just about everything poisoned his vision. He wanted to blame everyone for why he felt like this. He had school grounds charisma to maintain though. Even if it was satisfying to ruin people's lives, it wouldn't help his own standing.

Ivan channelled his rage into football, then hockey. He was the most violent student player to grace either game in ages. This was never an issue with coaches. Ivan's wrath came with landslide results most times. Touch downs, goals, and penalty shots typically landed winning scores. 

_He's not even a senior and he's killing the other teams!_

_That boy could take us to the championships._

_This level of clean performance is amazing!_

Praise and acclamation built around Ivan as the school year unfolded into winter. His ego was fed, thoroughly sated by his accomplishments. His raging hatred had a usable conduit all year round. This was literally the best of the situation. Even Ivan's abusive drunken father was staying out of his way. Almost smashing a chair over the man's head had something to do with it.

In all of this glory, that bleeding emotional hole refused to heal. It was persistent, like an incurable cold. In every way one could, Ivan blamed Alfred Kirkland for this condition. Looking at the arrogant blonde made Ivan feel weak and vulnerable. Alfred walked by once in gym class, the scent of apples faint off his person.

The sweet scent made Ivan swoon. He craved the fragrance so much he bought candles for it. The fucked up thing was he could recall that apple scent prior to the discovery. He didn't know who it belonged to for three weeks, but he knew it intimately. Finding out it belonged to that stuck up exchange student whipped Ivan's rage into life.

This was a prank, wasn't it? A ruse to insult Ivan from his jock throne. There was probably a drug that had been slipped in his energy drink, or mind trick in the change room. Ivan was going to fucking kill that boy for making him so weak.

The trick was finding the guy. Alfred was never in the same room anymore, actively avoiding Ivan.

A month after the memory gap occurred, Ivan lay in wait. He was in stealth mode at the end of gym class. History sucked anyway, so Ivan could be a little late for it. Prey was soon within Ivan's metaphorical claws, even if it was not the intended victim. It was that Claude nerd, part of the family hosting Alfred.

Ivan could work with this. He launched his assault in an older hall beside the gym. There was no security cameras in this part of the school yet, so Ivan often used the location.

Pinning the weaker male to the wall, Ivan bare a mighty fist. It was ready to sock this guy in the gut, face steeled with violence. “Tell me where Alfred is or I'll punch your face in.” The bully growled, meaning every word. This would be easy. Usually skinny ones begged or reasoned with the angry hulk of a teen. Money always changed Ivan's tune.

“I AM WOLF-KIN!” Claude howled like an animal, viciously biting Ivan's arm. It really hurt! Bewildered and confused, Ivan backed off to inspect under his cotton long sleeve. His arm was fine, only dented with a few teeth marks.

The insane kid ran off like a madman, howling like a wolf would. Poor crazy bastard. With no leads from this encounter, Ivan was forced to think like his prey. What did an Alfred do when fleeing? He was always dressed well, so not hiding outside. The smaller student was from a foreign place, so probably unsure of town. Alfred carried a masculine yet homosexual air about him, very much a fairy.

Oh yes. Alfred was totally hiding in a bathroom, possibly one of the girl ones.

Ivan's hunting instincts were still true. On the second foray into a girls bathroom, there was tell tale sniffling and a phone call on speaker phone. It came from a far corner stall.

“... and I feel so alone here! Mattie? When can I go home?”

“Al, you're in exile. At least give it another month. Didn't you say your wings were coming in?”

Alfred's chatter covered the sound of soft footsteps, Ivan nearing closer for attack.

“A little. They have real feathers now.”

Finally, Ivan grinned like a predator. “Hello Alfred.”

“Al who is that?” the other end of the call asked, abruptly silenced.

“Bye!” Alfred squeaked, making a tiny scared noise when Ivan slammed against the stall door. Lately Ivan was feeling stronger than usual. This showed as the stall door's locking mechanism broke. The door slammed open with a rattle of metal.

Alfred was crouched on the toilet seat, eyes wide as he flattened against the wall. “Uh, hey buddy. Lookin' a little angry.”

Dreamy blue eyes froze Ivan to the spot, his anger suddenly misplaced and useless. He struggled for words as the familiar apple scent tickled his nose. “You always smell like apples.” Ivan stammered, blushing against his own will. It reminded Ivan of warm fuzzy... _love_. The sensation was something he hadn't experienced since Mama died. Shyly, Ivan dared to look up at his target.

He could totally hit this guy. Ivan had pulverized idiots for less. He balled up his fists, determined. Upon looking into those beautiful blue eyes, any thoughts of violence fell away. “Can you... hold me? I'm so confused right now.” Ivan whimpered, starting to tear up.

At this, Alfred's fear faded. It was replaced with obvious shame. “I'm so sorry man. This is all my fault. The memory removal was supposed to fix what I did. All I wanted was a little attention and I screwed things up. All I do is screw up.” With this confusing confession, the teen got off the toilet and looked away.

“I don't understand, but I'm sure you're good at something. I'm... I'm an idiot too.” Ivan sighed, pawing at Alfred's hand. He desperately needed something to hold, and this seemed to be a cure. Fitting his larger hand over Alfred's, fingers cautiously interlaced. Already Ivan felt much better. The perpetual hunger and pain in his guts settled to contentment. Okay, so Ivan was gay. This revelation was jarring, given he was heterosexual a month ago. How a blinding switch like that happened, he had no idea.

“This is nice.” Alfred whispered. Judging by his soft Hollywood smile, the teen had also been miserable.

“I'm sorry I've been so violent to you. I don't know how else to deal with how, I don't know. How shitty my life is, I guess.” With this apology, Ivan rubbed his thumb in soothing motion against soft hands. “You make me happy, and I shouldn't be so mad about it.”

There was nearing footsteps, but no one entered the bathroom. Alfred giggled from the adrenaline of almost getting caught. “Maybe we should leave the girls bathroom.”

Ivan smiled, and it felt good. They entered the school hall, no longer holding hands. “Maybe... we can see each other around, our little secret?”

“I'd like that.” Alfred replied sweetly, giving Ivan's arm a gentle pat. The boys parted with a final look of longing. Ivan did go to history class in the end. All he did was doodle hearts on his notebook, but he was physically there.

The secret meetings were common things. It was all soft touches and cuddles in the beginning. It wasn't long before Ivan lost control. Small kisses became big ones. Gentle whispers became adoring compliments. They were both falling hard for each other, and the descent into madness was addicting. All of this was secret of course. 

Everything was better now. Ivan was the utmost of sportsmanship when he lost, and less aggressive in most games. He no longer had the urge to kill, scream, or destroy. He still deemed empathy a waste of time, but he put less effort into attacking weaker students. Over all, he felt healthier as a person.

Now if only he could stop being so itchy. Without healthcare in Ohio, life was rough. You learned to patch yourself up after fights. Getting sick was a fact you worked around. This irritating itch was just another obstacle Ivan had to live with. Aloe cream helped sometimes.

The condition was acquired after he and Alfred first started making out. Fearing it was mono, they researched the hell out of the symptoms. It was certainly not mono, or anything else. The mystery persisted on.

A week from Christmas, Ivan was on rocky ground with his father. The holidays brought out the worst in both of them. It didn't help that everything Ivan touched fell apart. Father would come home from his shitty manager's job, already knocking back the vodka. In this wretched state, the malignant man often discovered some appliance malfunctioning badly. They attempted to put up a Ded Moroz and New Years tree as a peace treaty, but the string lights caught on fire.

A lot of things were catching on fire around Ivan, always without clear cause. In all this chaos, his nails darkened to a sickly black. Two days before Christmas, Ivan was desperate. He turned up at Alfred's house in nothing but pyjamas and a sweater. It was absolutely insane to do this at five in the morning.

Ivan had a damn good reason though. His blackened nails were now sharp claws. That alone could be covered up with nail filing and gloves. It was the teen's once dull eyes that ruined everything. They had turned a brilliant shade of purple. They glowed in the fucking dark and it scared the crap out of Ivan.

Ringing the doorbell several times, Ivan was in genuine panic. Mr. Van den Berg answered the door, bleary with sleep. “What.” He spat, his personality as rough as his lazy shaving job.

“I need to see Alfred.” Ivan begged, standing bare foot in the snow. He would have worn shoes, but they caught on fire after the taxi ride here. The snow wasn't cold at all, melting between black clawed toes.

The adult stood in the doorway, taking a long blink. “It's too early for this shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is not finished on time for Christmas, but I will continue to finish it. I'm taking the day off to celebrate Christmas though.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a guy in a wizard costume, the crushed green velvet guy, and Ludwig, all crowded around Ivan on the couch. They were all squabbling over procedure in a lilting foreign tongue Lars could not place. All of this was at five thirty in the morning, the day before Christmas.

_Oh to the joy of the holidays._

Lars sipped black coffee and watched the comical proceedings. There was two opposing ideas at war over what to do about Ivan. The athletic giant of a teenager had ashen grey skin where black demonic claws started. His eyes glimmered like purple embers, body rife with lines from scratching at himself.

Ludwig and Toris were in favour of pushing the transformation to it's completion, so a diagnosis could be reached. The royal seer Felix wanted to stifle and mind erase the condition away, so the king and queen of Aloria wouldn't blow their stack. Alfred had messed up many times since arriving and this incident would not improve their mood.

The diligent werewolf's opinion didn't count, apparently. Where ever Ludwig came from, he seemed to be the second lowest caste level, barely allowed to voice opinion. This left the Royal informer and seer in stubborn deadlock as Ivan munched on Oreo cookies.

Not wanting his siblings to wake up, Lars decided to take charge. “I own this property, and the law is mine to command on this property.” He spoke up, making this up completely. Lars knew very little about law on earth, and he bet his house guests knew even less.

Toris, in his silly green beret, looked to the seer. “Is this true?”

The wizard seemed embarrassed to not know something, his ego as outrageous as his gold and red robes. “Of course. I mean, that makes perfect sense.” Felix lied blatantly, caught up in the ruse.

“So...” Lars snuffed out his cigarette with a poignant pause in the ash tray. “My vote will break the tie, since I'm of equal rank.”

“Naturally.” The wizard huffed, looking displeased about it.

“Good Baron, you must see covering one's mistakes with more memory wipes only serves one man's orders.” The great informer appealed to Lars, taking off his velvet beret in respect.

The wizard known as Felix was quick with a rebuttal. “Dragging yet another mistake before the queen will not help diplomacy. Tensions with the dragons is higher than ever, and one teen's follies will only spark a fire! A war with the king of dragons is what we risk by dragging this _incident_ to Alorian soil.”

The blonde wizard and his brunette companion bickered once more. Lars was enjoying himself, a central figure that held power. Granted it was imaginary power, but it was fun to play “Baron” with these idiots.

“As a baron of Earth, I propose a compromise.” Lars started, feeling smug as ever.

The royal informer beamed as the wizard glared. “You sound an awful lot like King Francis's horse.” 

Lars's expression twitched to a frown. Beast races were not respected as a whole in this “Aloria”, and the human was sick of experiencing this. “We finish whatever is going on with Ivan. Deal with it here, he ruined my new furniture already.”

“Uh, can I have milk with these cookies?” Ivan requested, taking everything really well.

Lars grunted in affirmative, serving the teen a glass of milk. Pleased, Ivan dipped the cookies and took a wet bite.

The blond wizard seethed but bent to Lars's order. It seemed owning land put Lars over anyone without land. How feudal and primitive. Some sort of mystic scribbles were put on paper, then stuck carelessly to Ivan's forehead. “There. It's done. It's not my fault if this place blows up.” The wizard sneered.

Ivan's image rippled, all pink flush of skin fading to grey. Ears pointed and darkened with black fur. Eyes were glittering with embers, irises narrowed to feline slits. Ivan was some sort of cat man thing, complete with black fluffy tail.

“Whoa.” Lars uttered, not expecting such drama.

“Oh look, I have fluffy tail now.” Ivan hummed, finishing off his milk. He giggled like a drunk as he squeezed his own tail.

“What's the matter with him?” Toris asked, edging away.

“I mixed in a delirium spell so he wouldn't freak out. I'm not some schmuck magician.” Felix rolled his eyes, looking at his nails in most pompous fashion.

“So... so what is he?” Lars asked, watching Ivan mess up his fluffy grey hair.

The royal informer finally did his job title, pulling a scroll from thin air. His speech was robotic as it vomited forth information.

“Ovinniks make their homes in granaries and drying houses. These thin, sleek, black-furred humanoids stand only a foot high. Their eyes and features seem catlike, but they bark like dogs to scare away thieves. No one knows why an ovinnik chooses to take up residence in a particular farm’s threshing house, and few would call on them willingly. A wise farmer placates resident ovinniks with frequent gifts of warm milk, pancakes, or dead roosters. By tradition, before the new year, farmers and their families go to the granary to learn their fates for the future. The ovinnik touches each of them in turn. If the ovinnik’s touch is warm, the person will have good luck; if cold, she will suffer terrible misfortune in the days ahead.”

After this lengthy monologue, Toris's magic trance ceased. “Well, this former human is now a Slavic fire spirit born of hate.”

All the adults in the room were bewildered at the news. “How... How does that happen?”

An unexpected voice broke the silence, upset and fragile. “It happens through curses.” Alfred hiccuped, standing in the hall. How long he had been there was unknown. The teen was in long royal nightgown, his rapidly growing eagle wings folded behind him. “Ivy's a weird over mick now and it's my fault.”

“Ovinnik.” Felix corrected.

“I'm sorry I turned you into an oven mitt buddy! I was trying not to piss off dad and now you're a kitty.” Alfred wailed, draping his arms over Ivan in dramatic grief.

“You want a cookie? They're good.” Ivan offered, incredibly mellow. Ivan then purred like a cat would as Alfred sat on his lap in subtle domination.

“You can't kill him. He has a life here, family, school. Killing him on the property will make Lord van den Berg look guilty of, ya know, _murder_.” Alfred curled around Ivan, hissing yet more threats.

“Be sensible Prince.” Ludwig objected, interrupted right away.

“He's a good boy and no one is going to chop him up or experiment on his hair or anything weird. I swear to the gods, I will use all my princely power to --” Alfred was getting more wound up, his wings fluffing with anger. He only settled when Ludwig put a hand on his shoulder.

“There will be no killing. Ovinnik are a class three threat.” Ludwig assured dryly.

“What does that mean?” Alfred sniffled.

The guard's expression turned dark as he stood tall. “It means Ivan was created to be a fire spirit through regular magic exposure. What kind of exposure would do that, hmm?”

Alfred's bravado died at getting caught. “It's... I mean. Nothing bad happened until now!”

Felix groaned, then looked to the royal progeny he was tasked to serve. “You didn't see the human after he was wiped right? Standard procedure for this kind of thing?”

Alfred used maximum begging eyes. “Not, like, a lot.”

Ivan squeezed Alfred and gave him a neck kiss. “Mmm. Friend.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes but remained silent. The other two were more vocal in their unknown location language, cursing loudly.

“With all due respect and grace, do you realize how bad this looks?” Toris stated the obvious.

Lars lit another cigarette, then leaned back in his chair. “You sad Ovinnik are warded off by offerings? We bribe Ivan's dark side or whatever, then he looks normal. He goes home, everything goes back to normal.”

“Oh yes, Ovinnik like pancakes, milk, sweet things, baked goods, chicken offerings. The offering has to be sincere.” The green velvet guy chimed in.

“What if the offering is not sincere?” Lars asked.

Ludwig was blunt as ever, his disappointment tangible. “Your property will burn to the ground.”

Why the magical universe hated Lars's house so much, he would never know. “Well, I guess we're all going to IHOP for breakfast.” Lars announced, pushing out of his seat.

“IHOP is the best!” Alfred and Ivan whooped in unison, getting off the couch.

“I don't understand. What is an IHOP? Great informer, do you know?” The wizard conferred with his wise associate, whom only shrugged.

Lars laughed for the second time in months, entertained. He then banged on the doors of the bedrooms. “IHOP guys! Let's go!” The entire household, a wolf dog, a wizard, a demonic teen, and a green velvet servant all crammed into the station wagon.

IHOP was essentially dead at six in the morning, on the cusp of Christmas. Ivan's demonic appearance reduced to nothing more than ashy complexion and purple eyes as he downed his fourth blueberry pancake. “Oh my god, this is so good.” The hungry teen professed his love for breakfast.

Indeed, everyone enjoyed sugary morning food except Lars. He had trouble eating when so anxious. 

The insane looking wizard slammed his fist on the table, yelling for any server to hear. “More whipped cream for my funnel cake!”

Lars shook his head, sipping coffee wistfully. This crazy nonsense was what his life had been reduced to.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! Warnings for arson below.

Ivan flitted among the royal court, dressed in black, gold, and deep reds. Even his fluffy tail had a ribbon bow on it. He was an imposter in this place, despite thriving socially. He was not mere threatening arm candy at Alfred's side. He was actually homeless.

The permanently cursed teen had honestly tried to keep in his nature. After the absolute disaster of a new years party with father, doom was inevitable. Conversation was stilted between Katya, Natalia, and Ivan. Father was outright hostile, accusing Katya of being a whore for running off to a boyfriend's place. In the thick of Russian arguing, the clock struck midnight.

As petty and stupid as it was, rituals had not been completed. Dad had not offered his Ovinnik son a chicken sacrifice, pancakes, or a glass of milk. There was no sincerity between them that bloomed from joy or friendship.

With this strangely specific requirement unmet, Ivan's transformation prickled his skin. He barely ran to his room in time as skin darkened. Fur and claws prickled forth. In minutes past midnight, he was locked in intense battle with himself. 

There was now a permanent battle of duality in his head. It was two months since that cursed night, and Ivan was laying on his bed. He had to borrow a glamour charm from Alfred's home dimension, his human appearance unable to return. Fae, demons, and many magic creatures were supposedly all about petty contracts. This much was evident, warring thoughts at play.

_Dad hasn't fulfilled the offerings, I need to burn the house down._

_Arson is wrong, and Dad might die._

Dad might die from this, and was that so bad? Realizing he was contemplating murder, Ivan steeled himself with a slap to the face. No, he was not a sociopath! He was a teeny bit power hungry and manipulative, but that was acceptable. Wanting to murder blood relations out of ritual spite was bot cool.

Panting with effort, he could feel his demonic condition strengthening. Claws gripped the metal bed frame. The sheets smouldered as the metal bed posted heated.

He could do this! There was lots of times he didn't blow his stack around the old man.

“BOY! GET DOWN HERE!” Dad thundered, roaring drunk.

“NO!” Ivan yelled back. His mattress was now smouldering, the blanket and sheets burnt clean through. The metal bed posts were weakening and bending from the heat.

“GET DOWN HERE OR I'LL BELT YOU UNTIL YOU BLEED!”

Ivan sucked in a breath, struggling to maintain calm. “Leave me alone, or I swear to god I'll kill us all!” It was more a warning than a threat, the teen curling up and covering his face. Hot tears glistened now curse blackened fur as he barely contained two months of arson urges. The tears set the pillow on fire upon contact.

“Don't you talk to me like that boy!” Stomping neared as Dad went upstairs.

 _Burn everything to the ground_ , his mind screamed. _Fulfill the ritual._ Ivan lost words, his human disguise shimmering away as the glamour charm melted. He was losing, the need to burn strong within. With finality, Dad kicked the door down.

“I am your father and you will listen to me!” Dad ordered. He was a beet in this moment. The parent was round man with hatred red face, ruddy from drink.

“ **LEAVE ME ALONE!** ” Ivan hissed in feline manner, flames and smoke peeling off his form.

There was a massive explosion in the kitchen, shaking the floor. Ivan's bed, curtains, and badly scorched floor rug burst into hot white fire. Dad's hair lit like dry matches as he screamed and fled. The fire licked Ivan's skin in loving warmth, not harming him at all. Warmth like love, love like destruction.

Ivan's humanity was gone, replaced by beautiful fire. He mewled in pleasure as he dragged claws along drywall and support walls. Fire bloomed from the gouged trails. Ivan laughed and purred as he inhumanly climbed up the exterior of the house.

Shingle after shingle burst into flames as Ivan ripped into the tarred roof. The entire house was a massive bonfire, wood creaking and cracking as it was consumed.

In Ivan's delirium, he saw a twinkling green being, no larger than bird. It flitted along the flames, protected by sparkling green aura. Feeling playful, Ivan clawed his way to to chimney to investigate.

“All the twit had to do was offer it a glass of milk. It's a waste.” The pretty tiny thing complained. 

A bipedal werewolf with snow white fur had also clawed up to the room, waiting for Ivan. The fire was unable to kill the interesting being, stopped by a clingy force field of some kind. “Burning the man's house down is not awesome, your grace.” The white wolf grumbled, Germanic accent strong.

“Contract is contract, wolf. Contain this thing before the Eyarth Fire Patrol arrive.” The familiar pixie like man snapped the order, a huge hole in reality forming above it. The glittering black hole was framed by delicate white lace patterns, a royal looking insignia crowning the gateway.

The werewolf shrugged, then tossed Ivan like a football into the portal.

Since that forceful abduction, the truth and basic court manners were drilled into Ivan. He couldn't go home anymore, stuck as his now cursed form. Even if he could go back, he was wanted for arson. Without police charges waiting for him, there was still the broken ritual.

For as long as Ivan's father lived, every property he ever owned would burn down. Beyond this, extra conditions applied. True to Ovinnik tradition, for the next earth year Mikhail Braginsky was personally doomed to die in a house fire. Any house fire would do, making Ivan a domestic danger. He could never return to earth to fulfill his immortal compulsions.

Short of Ivan's father murdering him, this would never change. Being offered a new place to live, or avoiding that plane of existence was easier solutions. Ivan's fiery intentions died off as suddenly as they started.

Alfred's time on earth was up, so he returned home. It was a public miracle that the rebel son of Queen Kirkland was tamed. Lars himself was invited to the welcoming ball, now a disciplinary figure of legend. Offered a sum of money to attend, the grumpy guardian agreed in a second.

This all lead to Alfred and Ivan prancing about court, bragging the perils of Earth. Alfred had already given Ivan a new home. In weeks past, they had been kissing in the park. Love lossened words slipped out of Alfred in a second of weakness.

“You're gonna live with me where things aren't shitty. None of this making your own food, or cleaning up junk.”

Already Ovinnik by this point, the words were as good as law for Ivan. The second his own house was on fire, the transfer of ownership was felt like a soft collar. Queen Kirkland didn't realize it yet, but his vast multi-dimensional castle was now possessed by a Slavic fire spirit.

Ivan liked it in Aloria, and getting him out of this castle was not happening.

The court was packed with all races and colours of cloth. Lace, silk, and cotton came in every sparkle, tuft, and cut. Alfred returned reformed, and a strong treaty had been sealed with the fire dragons to the north. King Romulus himself was in attendance, the biggest and most opulent of party goers.

Battle scarred red scales had been polished clean for the occasion, the toga adorned dragon several metres taller than anything else in the room. Romulus was shrunk down for the occasion, yet still managed to fill the room with ego.

“Baron van den Berg even made me wash floors, and listen to people's feelings. It was awful!” Alfred waxed his tale of woe. The dragon king listened intently, smoke curling out of maw with laughter occasionally. He had a booming voice like storms, yet was insatiable in his gregariousness. Several lovely court women hung off his form. They peppered the lord of dragons in compliments, alongside many nobles.

“That is the kind of cruelty I need! My wyrmling could use such a heavy hand!” King Romulus slammed his fist down in sulpurous humour, cracking the floor. Queen Kirkland, sitting on his king like usual, rolled his eyes and reversed the damage with a twinkle of fae magic.

“The prince's magical studies are coming along wonderfully now.” King bonnefoy chimed in, proud of his son in law.

“But I hear it's curse magic. Evil and forbidden tomfoolery.” a lesser noble muttered, in muted silvers and blues.

“The kind that could kill millions if channeled right. The best kind of magic!” the dragon king roared, raising his massive wine goblet in cheer.

“Oh I try to do my best.” Alfred muttered, looking at the floor bashfully.

“I think you could kill anyone you wanted to.” Ivan soothed, kneeling and kissing Alfred's hand.

“Instilling modesty too! This baron must be extraordinary!” A third noble noted, perhaps as sauced as the many dragons attending.

“I will speak to this miracle maker. Perhaps he has vacancies. SON, GET OVER HERE!” The dragon king bellowed to his bitchy offspring. The much smaller and younger dragon was brooding by the snack table, on his third bucket of sour fire wine. The petulant son snorted smoke derisively at his father, not moving so much as scaly tail.

“Ungrateful bastard... that I love with all my burning heart.” The king growled later, consulting his now refilled wine goblet for comfort.

Lars himself was alongside the Royal ambassador at the heart of the room, being flirted with by two very determined troll women. It was hilarious to watch the salty adult struggle over royal tact with such brusque females. Matthew of course, intervened if anyone got too hands on.

At first the queen was very opposed to Ivan being alive at all. It was revealed in tests that Alfred could only perform magic after the cursed aspects were filtered out via Ivan. Ivan took all the evil thoughts, that cruelty, and turned it into pure incinerating fire magic.

Alfred could take up his princely duties. Ivan got to live in a magic castle as a “temporary consultant”. Everyone won. What could have been a very big problem, was a solution.

Both boys got to have their happily ever after.


End file.
